


Wildfire

by SuuriSakara



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol/Drug Use, Anal Sex, Dubious Understanding Of Science, Light Bondage, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Turtlecest, questionable taste in music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-28 18:52:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13910079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuuriSakara/pseuds/SuuriSakara
Summary: "One of us should’ve been there with you. Seeing the fire on the news, and knowing you were in it, and we were down here…I don’t know, it made me feel powerless. That’s why I was so set on having someone watch your back. But if you’d rather have Leo…”“Don’t even finish that thought.” I held a palm towards him. “You said it yourself, I don’t need a babysitter, and we both know that’s exactly what he’d be. And Sensei was right about Mikey. Besides, it’s been too long since we got a chance to have some middle brothers’ time.”“Yeah, way too long, actually.”---Donatello needs a lab assistant, and Raphael volunteers. New circumstances elicit old feelings, as the egghead and the hothead rediscover just how much they have in common.





	1. Chapter 1

Mountains of money and mastery of martial arts aside, one great asset Karai inherited from her adoptive father was the ability to play a crowd. Standing before a hotel ballroom packed with New York’s top scientists, philanthropists, and socialites, she delivered a moving speech on how the noble, honorable, recently-deceased Oroku Saki would want nothing more than to have his fortunes invested into something that could better his fellow man. The four scientists alongside her onstage, she explained, would make that dream a reality, by breaking ground in biomedical and pharmaceutical research. It took great practice to keep a straight face through it all.

The five of us recognized her father as a cruel, dishonorable little Utrom, alive and wasting away in an icy intergalactic prison, with a regard for humanity that could be described as, at best, toleration. As for the scientists who were to carry out “his dream”, the CH2O Group was itself half-fiction. Chaplin was the only one among us who could honestly put a Ph.D. after his name, and April at least had her bachelor’s and experience working under Stockman. Meanwhile, the two H’s in my brilliant acronym (I hoped the irony of a life sciences foundation being named after embalming fluid wasn’t lost on everyone) weren’t even human, let alone published scientists.

            When her monologue finally wrapped up, Karai waved a hand toward us and introduced the applauding crowd to Chaplin, April, and Doctors Leifur Hedman and Hamato Dai-Taro. Thanks to a few months’ work rehashing the Transcendental Lathe from my time in 2105, and refining Moleculo’s Shrinking Belt technology, no one cowered in fear at the mutant crocodile and turtle sitting before them. By manipulating the size and image of our physical forms, Leatherhead presented as a hulking ivory-skinned man, with a lilac-tinged crew cut and goatee like his former caretaker Mortu had sported. I chose a form similar to the pictures Master Splinter kept of Hamato Yoshi: a lean Japanese man with strong, distinguished features, with a pair of glasses to complete the aura of academia. The audience didn’t suspect a thing as I delivered a mirthful bow to Karai and stood at the podium. Casey, looking uncharacteristically polished and well-groomed, gave me a wink from the front row as I began.

            “Ladies and gentlemen, it is truly an honor to be here with you this evening. I had the pleasure of meeting Oroku Saki on several occasions before his departure from New York and untimely passing, and it is humbling to have been chosen to carry out his vision with my colleagues.” Internally, I laughed at the half-truths in that sentence. “However, I would hate to give you the impression that we will simply act as four brains sitting in a tank, high in an ivory tower. The revolution we seek the medical field cannot come from us alone, which is why we intend to partner with Columbia, NYU, and the SUNY system to bring opportunities to students and faculty therein. Thus, it is better to think of us not as executives, but as gardeners, cultivating the solutions to come from the next generation while…”

            I stopped mid-sentence as the ground beneath my feet began to rumble, and panicked gasps began to bubble up from the audience. In an instant, the far walls of the ballroom were reduced to a spray of rubble and flame. The force of the shockwave whipped me off of my feet, and the world momentarily turned to black as the back of my head snapped into the wall behind me. After what could have been seconds, minutes, or longer, I felt a firm grip shaking me by my shoulders.

            “Donatello!” A low bass growled concernedly as the ringing in my ears slowly began to subside. My eyes fluttered open to see Leatherhead before me, his skin tone still human, but snout and claws in their normal crocodilian shapes. Our surroundings were in enough of a state of chaos that I doubted anyone would notice his disguise failure, but to be safe, I slid out of my tuxedo jacket and gave it to him to wrap over his head. Over my friend’s shoulder, I could see Karai with Chaplin’s limp body slung over her shoulder, and Casey leading April through the wreckage of the stage, signaling to us to follow.

            “Shouldn’t we help get everyone out?” I stammered.

            “I’m not sure you’re in the condition for that.” He pointed a finger at my leg, where a six-inch chip of what used to be the wooden podium jutted out of my calf. I had felt some mild discomfort there prior to looking down, but didn’t expect the damage to be nearly that severe. Shock is a hell of a feeling; it barely registered how injured I was until blood began to flow out as I attempted to stand. “Come on, we have to go!”

            In a fireman’s carry over the croc’s back, I watched the haze of smoke, dust, plaster, and bodies disappear as Karai’s security detail ushered us into a corridor and out to an alleyway. Leatherhead laid me down gingerly across the seats of the limousine we’d arrived in, and the door slammed shut as we peeled off into the night.

            “Donnie! Oh god, are you alright?” April cried, gesturing to where my blood was beginning to pool on the black leather.

            “I’ll be fine.” I coughed, the taste of ash lingering in my mouth. “It’s not bleeding too badly. No use touching it until we can get somewhere safe. What about him, though?” I gestured to the still-unconscious Chaplin, his head resting in Karai’s lap.

            “My husband should be up in a couple minutes.” She ran a hand down his cheek. “He has a…shall we say, milder constitution than most.”

            “Mine has the opposite problem.” April grumbled with a roll of her eyes. “Now, if _someone_ would finally let me take a look at their arm?”

            “Shit, babe, I told ya, it’s nothing.” Casey insisted, resisting futilely as April pulled his tattered sleeve back. From the base of his thumb, reaching halfway to his elbow, a scarlet-and-black swath of charred skin began to ooze a bit. “Gimme some gauze and peroxide and I’ll be good as new.”

            “It looks a little worse than that, Jones.” I said flatly. “I’ve got everything we need to do a graft back home.” Grabbing my jacket back from Leatherhead, I thankfully found my intact Shell Cell in the inner pocket, hastily unlocking it and hitting speed-dial. “Leo, it’s…”

            “Donnie! We saw on the news, hang tight, we’re on our way! Are you safe?” he was clearly exasperated.

            “Please, just head back to the lair. Yes, I’m fine.” I soothed. “Look, I’m coming back with friends. We’ll be there in fifteen.” It’s tough to think of anyone who worries more than Leonardo, or at least one who shows it.

 

* * *

 

 

            “I knew it. I knew it wouldn’t be safe.” I could see Leonardo pacing back and forth out of the corner of my eye. “Going to the surface, no weapons, in front of all those people. This was bound to happen.”

            “You knew there would be a bomb at a charitable social function?” I asked rhetorically, wincing as Leatherhead delicately peeled the polymer skin-layer off my leg, taking with it some smaller slivers of shrapnel. Raphael knelt beside him, carefully irrigating the area with saline as they prepared to remove the largest chunk. “Have you considered a career in stock trading?”

            “Be serious, Donnie.” He barked. “How often did you say you were going to keep going up there?”

            “Tuesdays and Fridays, starting next week.”

            “Perhaps it is worth rethinking this plan, Donatello.” Master Splinter offered between sips of tea. “I am beginning to doubt granting you leave from training twice a week was a wise choice. Not even Raphael goes to the surface unaccompanied that often.”

            “That’s because he’s usually got yours truly watching his back.” Casey bragged, trying to keep his voice straight as Chaplin applied a tilapia-scale graft onto his burn. “Besides, you’re looking at the lab’s head of security right here. Nothing’s getting to the Donster while I’m on the clock.”

            “Uh, dude, no offense,” Michelangelo piped up from the couch beside Splinter. “But your ‘security’ hasn’t stopped Raph from coming back all black and blue more than a few times. Plus, something tells me you only got the job ‘cause your wife’s one of the head honchos.”

            “The lab is safe, so long as I am not there.” Karai sighed. “The ones who did this, they were targeting me.”

            “What makes you so sure?” Leo raised an eyebrow. She plugged her phone into the monitor on the wall, pulling up an image of a somewhat familiar dark hallway.

            “This is security footage from Oroku Tower three weeks ago. I often conduct business on this floor, and would have been there if not for my trip to Japan.” Letting it play, she pointed as a shadowy figure in a dark hood appeared. It stood along the edge of the office space, unmoving for a moment. Then, in a flash, its clothing set ablaze, and the whole floor rocked in an explosion as the camera was disabled.

            “The news said it was a gas leak.” Leo murmured, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t think to ask us to help find out who’s responsible?”

            “A considerable portion of the Foot Clan is still loyal to me, and our investigation continues.” She stated flatly. “Often, it is best to conduct these matters internally; I have to protect the image of my foundation.”

            “So how’d they do it? Bomb vest?” Casey mused.

            “No shrapnel or residue.” She answered. The screen flicked to a busy intersection, the hotel we had just left in the background. “Here’s the footage my attaché sent a few minutes ago.” In such a bustling scene, it was difficult to make out what to look for, but again her finger drew attention to a hooded figure, lingering at the front of the hotel before exploding in a ball of fire.

            “So you’ve got an army of combustion men out after you?” Mikey asked. “Jeez, Karai, what did you do to piss off Fire Lord Ozai?”

            “Can you shut the fuck up, Mike?” Raph seethed between grated teeth. “Whoever…whatever this is, they almost cooked Donnie!”

            “And they won’t get a chance to again.” Casey insisted. “I got damn near a hundred guys working under me to keep the place locked up tight, and with all Don’s surveillance and alarm systems, the place is practically safer than the White House.”

            “Still don’t feel right.” My brother grumbled from beside me, concern heavy in his gaze. “One of us got to go with you. I appreciate Scales here bailing you out this time,” He gestured to Leatherhead. “But after tonight, Don, you know you need backup.”

            “I agree, Raphael.” Splinter nodded. “If Donatello can construct another of his disguise machines, it would be best for you to keep him company.”

            “Yeah, see?” Raph asked, before shooting a surprised glance over his shoulder. “Wait, Sensei, really? Me? I figured…”

            “I am sure Leonardo will be interested in helping Miss Oroku track down whoever is responsible for tonight’s events.” Splinter raised a paw, stopping Raph’s questioning. “And we all know what tends to happen when Michelangelo comes into a laboratory, so it is best if the two of them work together. Ordinarily, your time on the surface gives me concern, my son, but I trust Donatello to be a tempering influence on you, and I trust you to defend him if necessary.”

            “Sweet.” His grin returned. “Agent Raph, on the case.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Karai and Chaplin left with an unmarked convoy of Foot ninjas once they were confident the coast was clear, Leo accompanied April and Casey back to their apartment once we were sure the skin graft was doing its job, and Mike escorted Leatherhead through the sewers to his lair. Once Sensei was assured of my well-being, I found myself alone in my lab, tinkering with Leatherhead’s disguise unit to find out which components were damaged in the blast. Eyeing one particularly bruised-up circuit board, I stood up to grab my soldering iron from the bench across the room, but a sharp bolt of pain coursed through my right calf as it began to bear weight. Disheartened, I reached for the crutch beside me.

            Thankfully, the shrapnel hadn’t nicked any bone or major blood vessels. It did, though, cut through a significant part of my Achilles tendon, so after having been masterfully stitched up by Leatherhead, we applied a cast around my heel, to keep everything in place for six weeks. It was cumbersome, but I was grateful nothing more serious had happened. Had I been in the back of the room, rather than the front, well…

            “Hey genius.” A deep voice rumbled from the door. “You mind if I come in?”

            “Of course not, Raph.” He wore a strangely timid expression. “Can you grab that soldering iron for me?”

            “The uh…this thing?” He pointed, and passed it when I nodded. “Listen, I was thinking…I probably should have asked you before signing up to tag along like that. I know you don’t need a babysitter, bro, especially at work.”

            “I appreciate that, Raph, but seriously, it’s no trouble. Plus, it’s not like I’ll be able to drive for a while.” I gestured to my leg. “Consider yourself my chauffeur and personal assistant for the time being.”

            “I doubt I make a good assistant.” He chuckled, pulling a chair over and sitting at the bench beside me. “Hell, half the reason I don’t come in here too often is I’m scared I’ll knock something over and blow the place…up…” his smile dropped, and he smacked a palm to his forehead. “Ah shit, don’t mind me. Shouldn’t have said that; I know you had a hell of a night.”

            “It’s fine, bro. We’ve seen a lot worse, trust me.”

            “Sure, but usually when we run into death and danger, we do it together. I can’t imagine how you must’ve felt alone up there.” His tone began to waver ever so slightly.

            “I wasn’t alone; Leatherhead, April, and Casey were with me the whole time!”

            “You know what I mean, brainiac. One of _us_ should’ve been there with you. Seeing the fire on the news, and knowing you were in it, and we were down here…I don’t know, it made me feel powerless. That’s why I was so set on having someone watch your back. But if you’d rather have Leo…”

            “Don’t even finish that thought.” I held a palm towards him. “You said it yourself, I don’t need a babysitter, and we both know that’s exactly what he’d be. And Sensei was right about Mikey. Besides, it’s been too long since we got a chance to have some middle brothers’ time.”

            “Yeah, way too long, actually.” His gaze seemed fixed somewhere distant, a faint smile on his lips. “Alright, just wanted to make sure the whole thing was cool with you.” Stretching a hand and letting a yawn out, he muttered. “Getting late. Just ‘cause you don’t got to train tomorrow doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get some sleep.”

            “Duly noted, _mom_.” I groaned jokingly, and he lightly threw a fist into my bicep as he paced to the door.

            “I’m glad you’re alright, bro.” he called back softly over his shoulder, before rounding the corner and heading toward the stairs to his room.

            I stared at the doorway where he had stood, still trying to wrap my head around the conversation. Raphael talking about his feelings? Raphael doubting his choice of words? Hell, even Raphael asking permission before stepping into the lab! It wasn’t exactly business as usual for the hothead. I laughed quietly to myself, thinking he was acting like the one who had been knocked into a wall earlier in the evening. It had been too long since he last let down his guard and let me into his personal world.

            Way too long, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far down, welcome, and thanks for reading!
> 
> It's been years since I've had a chance to sit down, plan a piece through and through, and start writing. This is a pairing I've had no experience working with thus far, but already I think there's a definite dynamic to enjoy. I hope you feel the same!
> 
> Barring any future exceptions, the current plan is to alternate between 1st person Don and 1st person Raph with each chapter. I find my natural voice leans a lot more toward Don's, so if you catch me slipping up and making Raph use technical jargon where it's not due, or uncharacteristically eloquent language, please drop me message, or leave a comment and let me know how to phrase it better!
> 
> I also tend to obsess over continuity and canon; I'm 6/7 through a rewatch of the entire 2003 series, just to make sure everything makes sense. If I'm missing something, tell me soon, before it gets drawn out too far and I have to scrap half the story!
> 
> Thanks again,
> 
> Suuri


	2. Chapter 2

            “English, Don, if you don’t mind.” He’s got to feel like an elementary school teacher sometimes, taking his next-level thoughts and trying to compress them into something the rest of us can understand. We were standing in his lab, and for probably the tenth time that week, I asked him for a rundown on how these disguise machines worked, only to hear nothing but technobabble.

            “You remember the machine at Cody’s company in the future, the one that printed your Ninja Tek Sais? And you remember defending the Justice Force HQ from Nano, there was the tryout with the belt that let him change size? This combines them both. Basically, you think of what you want to look like, and it changes the shape of different body parts to make them more humanoid, then puts a thin, breathable layer of flexible plastic over you, to look like normal human skin and hair.”

            “How many times have I told you you’re a fucking genius?” I asked, earning a beaming smile from him.

            “Thousands, by my count.”

            “One last question: does it hurt?”

            “Huh.” He stroked his chin for a moment. “Not really? It feels a little uncomfortable when your body parts are changing shape, but nothing really _painful_ , per se.”

            “Alright, I trust you. Let’s see how this baby works.” He grabbed some kind of purple fabric from his table, stepping through the two holes at the bottom and carefully pulling one side up over his cast. “What are those for?”

            “Well…” he giggled. “Human males have certain…anatomical features on the outsides of their bodies, whereas ours are usually inside until they need to be used.”

            “Ugh, Don, this is gonna shift my dick around?” I grimaced. “Why would you need a human dick in the first place?”

            “It’s not the kind of thing that only works on half the body. Hey, I did say it’d be uncomfortable.” Next, he grabbed the candy bar-sized metal box, and clipped it to the waistband of his skivvies. “Only one button; so easy, even Mikey could figure it out.”

            He gave the button a click, and in a second I started to feel queasy. It was like watching a Harry Potter movie, where they drink that potion and all their bones and organs move around under their skin. Don didn’t seem to be in any distress, though, so I continued to watch as a coat of pale peach-colored liquid flowed out from the box, coating his jade skin and sprouting into strands of jet black hair when it reached his head. From the pictures I’d seen, he really was a dead ringer for Hamato Yoshi, from the cheekbones to the hairstyle. Weirdly enough, his dark chocolate eyes, same color as always, looked the same as Yoshi’s too.

            “Holy shit, Don…you’re a human!” I pressed a hand to his bicep, feeling the smooth, satiny give of human skin instead of scales. My other hand ran through his hair, the ebony strands falling limply back into position as my fingers retreated. One thing, though, seemed off. I poked at his chest, where I could count a couple ribs beneath his pecs. “A skinny human?”

            “Not all humans spend their whole life training ninjutsu, you know. Especially not the ones who work in laboratories.

            “Good thing that don’t apply to their bodyguards.” I laughed. He held a red pair of trunks and a matching metal box out for me, and like a kid running down the stairs on Christmas morning, I jumped into them and clipped the box on.

            “Do you know what you want to look like?” He asked. A good question, really; when you’ve spent your whole life only knowing a handful of humans, you don’t always get a good read on what’s “normal” to them, let alone “attractive.” I mulled it over for a second, but didn’t want him to get impatient.

            “Yep, it’s go time.” I held my breath, squinted my eyes shut, and pressed the button before I could get cold feet. The process didn’t feel as nasty as it looked, but it definitely wasn’t the kind of thing I’d do for fun. When the lukewarm goop felt like it had coated me and settled in place, I opened my eyes and held my arms out in front of them. Caramel-colored skin covering taut ropes of muscle, forearms bushy down to the wrist with thick, dark curls. Five fingers. Five! A black tattoo of a sai on my left bicep, and a red-and-green dragon tattoo on my right. “This is fucking awesome!” I cheered. Grabbing a hold of one of my fleshy new pecs, covered in the same hair as my arms, rubbing the stubble on my neck and chin, feeling the dense, wavy locks on the crown of my head, cupping the bulge in my trunks, it was almost too much to take in. I cheered, and jumped around, only stopping when I noticed the weird look on Don’s face.

            “Huh? You’re not…” he remarked. Something was wrong.

            “Oh shit. What did I do? Did I fuck it up?” I clapped my hands to my face, trying to feel what could be out of place.

            “No!” he exclaimed, laying a hand on my shoulder. “No, it looks…really good, actually. I just thought you’d be, you know, Japanese.”

            “Hmm.” I honestly hadn’t even considered it. Our adoptive father’s former owner was Japanese, true, but it’s not like that made Yoshi our grandfather. “Kinda weird if your bodyguard looks like your brother, right?”

            “That’s a good point, really. Cronyism and all.” He closed one of his cabinets, where a long mirror hung on the door, and I laid eyes on a tanned face with a long, straight nose, and thick, dark lips surrounded by five-o-clock shadow. My hair was buzzed equally short all along the sides and back, until my temples, where long waves of coal-black were slicked back. Goddamn! I looked like the head of a soccer player on the body of a football player! The only thing left unchanged about me was my eyes, the same neon green as always. “What are you, then?”

            “Uh…Latino, I guess? Does it make a difference?”

            “Only when we’re coming up with a name. Want something totally new, or you’d rather keep it sounding similar?” He sat at his laptop, typing something up. “Raul?”

            “Raul Fiero?” I mused.

            “Golden.” He typed some more, then turned the screen in my direction, where his webcam picked my face up. Hitting the “print” button, a whirring sound came from a machine on the corner of his desk, and it spat out a small plastic card. Curious, I picked it up.

            “A driver’s license?” I exclaimed. “D, you fucking badass, you just made me a fake ID!”

            “It won’t do us much good if the police run it, so please try not to get pulled over.”

 

* * *

 

 

            After digging through Don’s surprisingly big wardrobe for something that’d fit ‘Raul Fiero’, it was game time. There we stood in the elevator to the garage, him texting someone at work, me adjusting the collar of my sport coat and linen shirt so the smallest tuft of chest hair was just barely sticking out. It took a little bit of hasty tailoring, but the suit fit me like a glove, and Don hooked me up with enough accessories to make me look like a real bodyguard for VIPs: mirrored shades, swanky watch, Italian loafers, even a diamond stud earring that he insisted I wasn’t wearing right. Don might know more than me about most things, but I’ve seen enough mobster movies and rap videos to know what a big shot looks like. Man, after living my whole life wearing nothing but pads, a belt, and a mask, I finally realized why humans obsess so much over fashion: when you look good, you want everyone to know it.

            Don…excuse me, Dai, looked good too, but that lean, clean body of his was buried in a boring white lab coat and black turtleneck. Can’t knock him for playing the part of the dorky scientist, I suppose. His pants were loose enough that his cast wouldn’t get caught up in it, which got me thinking about our ride.

            “Yo Do…Doctor Hamato.” I grinned, catching myself and remembering to stay in the role. “I don’t think we should take the bike with your leg, you know. What about the Turtle Hauler?”

            “Scientists and their bodyguards don’t get around in garbage trucks, Raul.” He chuckled. “We’re taking my car.”

            “Your car?” I gasped. “Since when do you…” The elevator doors opened, and in the normally-empty space of the garage, I laid my eyes on a piece of absolute fucking art.

            “Got a little advance on my first paycheck, thanks to Karai.” He stated proudly, hitting the key fob and watching the headlights pop up from their housings.

            “B...B…Bimmer Alpina B12 5.7…” I drooled, wanting to run my hands all over the forest green body, but scared to leave fingerprints. “six-speed Shift-Tronic manual, 410 horsepower S70 V12 engine…”

            “1996, only 30,000 miles on her.” He whispered like it was pillow talk, knowing just how much awe I was in. “All original parts. Only things I had them change are the paint and the electronics.”

            “Dear lord, bro, how much was that fucking paycheck?” I was floored, damn near close to tears.

            “Enough that my assistant might be able to afford his own, if he can find another in this good of condition.” He stepped around passenger side, opened his door, and tossed the keys at me before shoving his crutch in the back. I woke out of my blissful trance just in time to catch them.

            “I can’t believe you’re letting me touch this thing, bro, let alone drive it.” I flicked the keys in the ignition, and as all twelve cylinders roared to life, I could barely keep my jaw closed. The black leather and wood grain interior was exactly the same as what we’d seen in our old car magazines, down to the purple-and-teal racing stripes on the seats. Where the radio and cassette player used to be sat a huge touchscreen with the same “Fugitoid OS” as Don’s computers and our phones.

            “There’s no one else I’d trust with her.” He looked back at me wistfully, hitting the garage door opener and sliding a pair of lavender-tinted shades on. “I haven’t even got to drive her myself.”

            “You want me to pop her cherry?” I shouted in disbelief, earning a hearty laugh from my copilot. “Okay, I gotta calm down. But if you’re letting me do this…and I know you don’t really like rap, but if it’s really a ’96…”

            “Driver gets to DJ, same rules as always.” A smile crawled across my face, and I must have looked like a kid in a candy shop. “The tablets have all our collective music libraries on them, so pick away!”

            “96…96…” I mumbled to myself, opening the “Hip Hop” tab of song choices and scrolling away through the thousands of tracks Mike and I had accumulated over the years before setting my sights on what I was looking for. “Perfect. D, have I told you I love you lately?”

            “If you did it more often, I wouldn’t complain.” Either my eyes were playing tricks on me, or Don’s tech was so advanced that I could make out a blush creeping up his pale human cheeks just as Lauryn Hill’s hypnotic “oohs” warmed through the speakers, and the beat began to play.

            “ _Life, I wonder…Will it take me under? I don’t know._ ” Nas started, and I was brought back in time to the summer when this song was all over the radio, and only the biggest ballers were sitting in this car, cruising the streets of the city just like we did now. The Bimmer was a two-ton beast, but had enough horses under the hood to make me feel like Midtown Manhattan was my personal racetrack.

            “ _Imagine smoking weed in the streets without cops harassing,_

_Imagine going to court with no trial,_

_Lifestyle cruising blue Bahama waters, no welfare supporters,_

_More conscious of the way we raise our daughters.”_

To my surprise, Don was smiling ear-to-ear, bopping his head to the old-school boom-bap. He rolled his window and the sunroof down, and fiddled with the EQ on the screen until I was sure the bass was rattling windows three cars away.

            “I thought you weren’t a rap fan, D.” I laughed and rolled mine down too, enjoying how into it he was getting.

            “Just because it’s not my favorite doesn’t mean I can’t admire it.” He hollered over the volume.

            1996 wasn’t too far off from one of the bigger changes in our lives; when Leo got chosen as leader. Before then, social lines were always drawn around A-Team and B-Team. Leo and I stayed up to watch cartoons after Don and Mike went to bed, we played around the sewers together when Splinter wasn’t looking, we even took a couple late-night trips to the surface. After, though, he became the straight-laced, brown-nosing, Fearless Leader who’s been breathing down my shell ever since. With my old partner-in-crime no longer an option, and Mikey the same pest he’s always been, I guess I started to turn to Don.

            Even way back, Don was light-years beyond me in terms of smarts. Despite that, I got along surprisingly well with the rambunctious little egghead. He’d teach me about cars and motorcycles, I’d work out with him and give him extra sparring practice. Whenever I’d get ticked off from a fight with Leo, he’d play therapist for me, and when he’d get pouty after getting clobbered during training or not meeting Sensei’s expectations, I’d play Mr. Miyagi for him. Hell, sometimes it was difficult to shake him off when I wanted alone time! Over the years, life got crazier, and I guess our interests, kind of, diverged…but man, I’d almost forgotten how good we used to have it.

            “ _If I ruled the world, (imagine that?)_

_I’d free all my sons, I love ‘em, love’em baby,_

_Black diamonds and pearls (Could it be, if you could be mine, we’d both shine?)_

_If I ruled the world (Still living for today, in these last days and times._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

            CH2O Group’s headquarters was way ritzier than I could have imagined. Don’s little speech about an “ivory tower” on TV wasn’t far off; the joint was like a huge spear, pointing fifty floors into the sky, all glass and white steel. The bigwigs got their own secure level in the underground parking garage, and a private elevator to take them right to the lobby. From there, you could see all the way to the skylights in the roof, adding to the already-blinding effect of pure marble floors and mirrors all along the walls. The place was like a Dubai hotel and the Sistine Chapel had a baby, one that got a gig advertising for Clorox. I held Don’s briefcase as he navigated the lobby with his crutch, approaching a gate blocking access to the elevators, and a desk where a familiar-looking meathead sat, with his greasy black hair tied back into a neat ponytail.

“Morning, Mister Jones.” Don bowed as best he could.

            “Morning, Doctor Hamato.” Casey smiled back. “Who’s your guest?”

            “Ah, you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting my assistant. Mister Jones, allow me to introduce Mister Raul Fiero.” I shot him a huge grin, hoping he’d catch on. “He will be in need of an access card, with all my privileges.”

            “Raul Fiero, huh?” he eyed me warily, and I gave him a wink as I leaned an elbow onto his desk. “Jeez, Doc, I thought your pops said you were gonna bring…”

            “You should address _el jefe_ as Doctor Hamato, _perra_.” I embellished the part, rolling my R’s heartily. “He signs your paychecks, _o no_?”

            “That getup is fucking flawless, Ra…Raul!” he doubled over, cracking up. “Where’d you learn Spanish?”

            “Smashing heads with you, _puta_! You know the Purple Dragons don’t discriminate.”

            “Oh my god…Doc, you let him go out in public with that in?” He turned to Don, tugging at his earlobe before laughing even harder.

            “You’re just jealous.” I growled. “Mister head of security doesn’t look so tough once Mister Fiero’s in the building.

            “Right, right.” He wiped a tear from his eye before punching a blank keycard into a slot behind his desk. “Super tough. Sorry, just, uh…caught off guard, I guess? Anyways, hit me up if want to grab lunch; food court here is pretty awesome.”

            “Will do, Jones.” Don gave him a curt nod and grabbed the keycard from his hand, and I followed him to the sea of elevators. At the farthest end stood our ride, the only one that offered access to the top four levels. Pressing the keycard to the box on the wall, Don opened the doors, and handed the card back to me as we stepped in. “Please don’t lose that access card. It’s the only thing that can get you up to my lab, and you won’t even be able to get most doors here open without it.”

            “You can count on me, D.” He hit a button labeled “Hamato”, and the floor began to hum smoothly under us. “Say, what do you think Casey meant about the earring?”

            “Well, like I was trying to tell you before we left…” Even with his disguise on, I could recognize the look on his face when he’s searching for exactly the right words to not hurt someone’s feelings. “Have you ever heard the expression, ‘left is right, right is wrong’?”

            “Don’t think so. I mean, up until an hour ago, I didn’t even have ears. Why, how could having one ear pierced or the other be ‘wrong’?”

            “Oh, it’s not wrong, really, it’s just a figure of speech.” He scratched at the back of his neck, eyes turning away from me. “Just, usually the right ear is supposed to signify same-sex attraction. Kind of a secret tell for the gay community until it became mainstream.”

            “You’re telling me Casey and the whole building think I’m a _maricon_ now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The extent of my Spanish knowledge comes solely from having dated uno Dominicano for four years, so please forgive me if I get it wrong!
> 
> Song in the car is "If I Ruled The World" by Nas, featuring Lauryn Hill. An absolute bop if you're not familiar!


	3. Chapter 3

            “Casey was right; how’d you let me leave the house looking like this?” Raph steamed, tugging the earring out hastily and tucking it in his breast pocket.

            “I did tell you to put it back in the jewelry box.” I chuckled. He really was getting flustered about this.

            “Yeah, but now everyone’s gonna think I’m…and maybe that we’re…and that…”

            “Seriously, I doubt anyone even noticed other than Casey.” I soothed, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Besides, if he asked, what would you even say your orientation is?”

            “Ain’t got one.” He grumbled, crossing his arms. “If you found someone willing to shack up with a mutant turtle, you’ve been holding out on me.”

            “Your orientation isn’t just defined by who you’ve been intimate with, bro. It has to do with fantasies, pictures, videos…what about those magazines Mikey found in your room a few years ago?”

            “Ugh, that little shit…” he pressed a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. “Look, first of all, they were Casey’s. Second, there was a bunch of bike mags in my room too, but that doesn’t mean you’ll catch me trying to fuck a Ducati anytime soon. Just…learned some new stuff from them, I guess. Same as the encyclopedias in your room.”

            His tone hinted that the sensitive, vulnerable Raph I had seen last week had swapped places with the usual gruff, difficult Raph, at least for the time being, so I decided now wasn’t the time to press the issue. The elevator slowed to a halt, doors sliding open, and I laid eyes on the atrium to my office for the first time. Everything had been built exactly to specifications; the backlit walls concealed by shoji of white paper and mahogany, the floors consisting of interlocked tatami, and a water fixture of jagged, mossy rocks in the center of the room filling it with pleasant ambient noise.

            “Not bad for a young post-doc from Kagoshima, huh?” I boasted.

            “You gotta get Splinter up here sometime, D, this is right up his alley.” He eyed the place curiously as I hobbled across the room. “Very tranquil.” I produced my access card, and pressed it to one particular square in the shoji, which glowed as the wall next to it retracted.

            The office inside was designed, like the atrium, to impress any potential guests, and it certainly seemed to have that effect on Raph. One wall consisted solely of windows, from floor to ceiling, looking south across Manhattan and the harbor. Opposite that, five ukiyo-e woodblock paintings hung, of a hanbo, katana, sai, bo, and nunchaku. A stately mahogany desk sat before that wall, its chair pointed where its occupant could look out onto the city. Raph found himself drawn to the long counter along the far wall with a row of stools alongside it, hopping over and inspecting the contents beneath it.

            “Well, well, well…” he chuckled, producing a bottle of kokuto shochu and two glasses. “The genius drinks?”

            “I wouldn’t call myself a drinker,” I hinted. “but you never know when a thirsty guest will come along, such as yourself.”

            “Shit, I’ve had a few beers at Casey’s place, but the only time I’ve got my hands on the strong stuff was at his wedding, and that was like a year ago.”

            “It’s a brown sugar liquor, like a slightly less potent rum. Very popular in the south of Japan, where,” I used air quotes. “’I’ grew up.”

            “You don’t say?” He eyed the bottle over, before popping the cap off and pouring into the glasses. “Well, rum’s pretty popular in the D.R., where ‘I’ grew up, so I say we start the workday off right.” I trotted over to him, and he slid one of the glasses my way before raising his. “To Doctor Hamato, the biggest brain in in the field of…uh…whatever it is you’re working on this time!” he toasted before pouring it back with a poorly-hidden grimace.

            “Pharmaceuticals.” I clarified before tipping back my own glass. The warm, sweet burn wasn’t unforgiving.

            “Donnie the drug lord, huh?” he cracked a smile. “Figured it’d be robots or computers, something more up your usual alley.”

            “My interests are more diverse than you give me credit for.” I grinned back. “Chaplin and April primarily handle the ‘machine’ end of operations; stuff like prosthetics, diagnostics, surgical robots. Leatherhead’s specialty is in sustainability; the Utroms built all their technology without access to petroleum, so he’s figuring out ways for us to do the same. That leaves me with the biological and chemical side of things.” At the end of the bar stood another door, and I pressed my keycard to its frame. “Let’s get started.”

            “Uh, Don?” Raph muttered as we walked in. “I think the contractors might have stiffed you on the lab.”

            “Why, what were you expecting?” I prodded, taking in the crown jewel of the building: A cavernous room, about the size of a hockey rink, entirely white and empty save for a podium in the dead center.

            “Something like your lab in the lair, only more bougie, I guess.” He looked around, following me toward the podium. “Not a whole lot of nothing.”

            “Another of Cody’s inventions, albeit repurposed.” At the podium sat a pencil-sized white stylus, and a touchscreen tablet like the one in my car. I pressed the stylus to the screen, and the room briefly flashed to darkness. “His holographic Ninja Dojo was great for training, but a bit frivolous to have solely for combat practice. Besides, this one’s much faster; 200 petaflops, almost 50,000 manycore processors, and the only supercomputer in the world to run my very own Fugitoid OS.” The darkness lifted, revealing a flat expanse of lush green grass and clear sapphire skies farther than any eye could see.

            “And here I figured we’d be playing with beakers and test tubes all day.”

            “The real glassware is with my staff on floors 30 through 36, if you’re interested.” Tapping a few directories and menus on the tablet, a lab bench appeared, stretching on forever in either direction. “We can get so much more done up here, though. Have you ever heard of Parkinson’s disease?”

            “Uh…” he was caught off guard. “Kid from Back to the Future?”

            “Bingo.” A supersized image of a human brain materialized in front of us. “It’s caused by a breakdown of the dopaminergic neurons in the substantia nigra.” As I said it, the simulation enlarged and engulfed us, inserting us into the midbrain, where we could see individual cells and the receptors in their membranes. “When the ratio of dopamine to acetylcholine gets below a certain threshold, a progressive motor dysfunction occurs. Now, options for treatment are expanding, but still not ideal, while options for prevention or true cure are basically non-existent. So, let’s focus on those.”

            The simulation zoomed in further, placing us inside a single neuron. A tangle of lengthy fibers sat before us, encased in a bubble. Two portions of the tangle were glowing bright purple.

            “That’s DNA, isn’t it?” Raph exclaimed.

            “Very good!” I didn’t want to come off as patronizing, but he honestly surprised me with that. “Have you been stealing my textbooks?”

“Hey, you’re not the only one in the house who knows how to read, egghead. So, what’s highlighted there?”

“Two genes: one on chromosome 4, the other on chromosome 6.” The tangle quickly coiled into 23 neat bundles, the two highlighted regions separated by one. “Alpha-synuclein and parkin. The neuron dysfunction can be caused by either a mutation causing toxic gain of function in the first, a mutation causing loss of function in the second, or both. So, in people with damaged copies of those genes, the mutant parkin gene needs to be replaced with a functional non-mutant copy. That’s gene therapy, which we have an increasingly good handle on these days. But with mutant alpha-synuclein, we either need to silence _and_ replace the gene, or find something that can bend the protein back into configuration. You choose which.”

            “Fix the broken protein.” He chose off instinct, and I typed on my screen.

            “Looks like we’ve got…seventeen different options that should bind to a Lewy body and convert it back to a functioning protein.” Seventeen different molecules hovered in a circle around us, and the brain simulation faded away as they continued to orbit us back in the grassy plain. “Pick one.”

            “They all look the same to me.” He laughed, putting a hand over his eyes before extending a finger. “This one.” The bundle of chromatin from inside the cell reappeared, a small highlighted blip gradually snaking its way from one end to the other.

            “It’s checking to see how that molecule reacts to other proteins, just to make sure we’re not killing someone while curing them.” I used the stylus to draw a doorframe in the air, and our exit appeared. “It runs faster when we’re not inside.”

            “Assuming it doesn’t fuck with any other proteins, did we just cure Parkinson’s?” He asked as we stepped back into my office.

            “Well, there’s a few more steps. If it doesn’t work, we run the simulation on one of the other sixteen molecules. Next, we see if that compound is possible to produce, and if it’s cost-effective to produce, then get a patent. Then we run trials, in vitro studies, mouse studies, eventually human studies, and get FDA approval. So, in a year or two, we very well may have.”

            “Holy shit! We’ve been here for literally twenty minutes, and already you might have cured a goddamn disease!” He threw his fists in the air like he’d just won a marathon. “Don, forget those guys you look up to, Einstein, Hawking, all them.” Poking a finger into my chest, he exclaimed. “You’ve got to be the smartest dude in the universe. No lie.”

            “Another drink?” I tried to distract him from the blush tinting my cheeks.

            “And you’re a mind-reader, too.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “How about one of these?” Raph pointed his phone toward me, a candy red 1998 Toyota Supra onscreen.

            “She’s beautiful, alright. Though you could find something in better condition if you wanted to grey-import from Japan.”

            “That’s…that’s an option?”

            “Of course it is! Hell, if you wanted, we could lengthen the frame a bit, drop in a UZ V8 from a Lexus, then slap the original turbos from the JZ back on. Should get it to around 380 horsepower, even if you didn’t want to tune it any further.”

            “And here I thought you couldn’t fix what was already perfect.” He mused, looking as blissed out as when he laid eyes on the BMW that morning.

            “Check this out.” I slid my phone down the counter to him, showing a sparkling new crimson Kawasaki Ninja. “I know it’s labelled as an H2, but if I’m reading the description and the price tag correctly, this guy’s hinting pretty heavily that it’s really an H2R. All he had to do to make it look street-legal was throw some mirrors on and paint over the body panels.”

            “Not like NYPD would know the difference anyways.” He laughed to himself. “Hey, Don?”

            “Mmm?” I hummed, expecting be asked my opinion on another beefed-up tuner or racing bike.

            “When we were in the elevator, talking about…you know, I was wondering…” He didn’t bring his gaze up to meet mine. “You ain’t never really looked at nudie mags before, have you?”

            “Oh. Um…Honestly, not magazines, no. You realize I’ve had access to the internet since, like, 2002?” That earned a hearty laugh from him, slicing through the nervous tension.

            “Looking at titties in HD while I was stuck with Casey’s old Playboys! Bro, you really were holding out on me.”

            “Not exactly.” I admitted. “I mean, like you said, there’s certainly a lot of new stuff to be learned from looking at images or videos like that. One of the things I learned was that they didn’t particularly interest me.”

            “What, girls?” His eyes threatened to bulge out of their sockets as the gears in his head turned. “Oh fuck, Donnie, I’m an idiot…if any of the shit I said earlier pissed you off, man, I am so sorry!” He brought his hands to his temples. “I just, shit, I didn’t know… I would’ve figured...”

            “Woah, calm down, big guy!” I chuckled. “That’s not to say I’m gay, necessarily. It’s…” I didn’t quite know how to get out the words I wanted. “It’s way more complicated than that.”

            “Hey, there’s a whole bunch of shades of grey out there on the, what’s it…Mackenzie Scale? I get it.”

            “The Kinsey Scale?” I corrected. Just how much reading did he do in his spare time? “I’m not sure where I’d place myself along the spectrum, honestly. Things get a little fuzzy when you consider it’s a scale for humans, about their attraction to other humans.”

            “Heh. That’s true.” He blushed, still not quite looking straight at me. “I mean, I can recognize Dai looks pretty damn good, and from what I gather, Raul ain’t half bad either. But really, I think I’d almost rather…” he stopped short, as his phone buzzed on the counter. “Ugh, Jones.”

            “Yo Ravi!” I could hear his shout once Raph swiped the screen to take the call.

            “It’s Raul, dipshit. What’s up?”

            “I’m on lunch break, you guys trying to hit the cafeteria?”

            “Case, I been living underground for the better part of two decades, and not counting Halloweens and a little stint in the future, today’s my first day to roll around the city like a free man. Assuming it’s okay with _el jefe_ ,” Looking to me, I gave him a nod. “We’re going somewhere I can get good pizza.” A smirk crept across his face. “And a bottle of wine.”

            “Alright, but you’re driving; don’t think I didn’t catch the security footage of you two rolling up in that sick ride this morning!”

            “It’s a date.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “Getting me drunk on the job? Tsk, tsk, tsk.” I clicked my tongue at him, fastening my seatbelt and letting my woozy body sink into the warm leather. “When’s the last time I told you how bad of an influence you are? What am I supposed to say to Master Splinter?”

            “Hey, you gotta build up a tolerance for when guests start to swing by.” Raph grinned, pulling his sunglasses down as we left the parking garage. “Can’t have you embarrassing yourself in front of investors, or whatever. Plus, what else were we supposed to do? Spent like ten minutes in the computer before lunch, another fifteen after, then did all the grant paperwork in a half-hour. We practically could have left at ten o’clock!”

            “Pssh, please! If we did, I never would have got to try Motorino’s. Or wine, for that matter. You’d really rather spend all day in the lair?”

            “You know who you’re talking to?” He exclaimed, incredulously. “I say we tell Leo and Splinter we had to work late, and go hit some bars!”

            “Ugh, just hearing that idea makes my head spin even more!” I protested. “Maybe next time, though. You _are_ a lot of fun.”

            “Hey, I’m just glad you let me tag along, bro.” He uttered softly. “You ain’t so boring yourself.” At the red light, he thumbed through the tracks on the tablet, settling on something in the R&B section. It wasn’t a genre I knew Raph to appreciate, but then again, there was a lot about him that he didn’t exactly advertise to everyone around him. As a stately rhythm of snare and piano began to play, I caught the glint of the setting sun on the diamond stud jutting from his right earlobe. When had he put it back in?

            “ _My guy pretty like a girl, and he got fight stories to tell,_

_I see on both sides like Chanel, C on both sides like Chanel._

_Swimming laps through pool water, heated like I’m underworld._

_Hide my tattoos in Shibuya, police think I’m of the underworld._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's bop du jour is "Chanel", by Frank Ocean.
> 
> All car/bike talk brought to you by spending too much time hanging around my uncles' garage as a kid, but to be fair, I couldn't tell apart a cylinder from a spark plug if you asked me.
> 
> Similarly, all science talk brought to you courtesy of my bachelor's in biology, earned mostly by sleeping through lectures and hastily reading Wikipedia articles. I literally have 0.001% of an idea of what I'm talking about.


	4. Chapter 4

            “Dude, going back there a second time was, like, just as spooky as the first time.” Mike insisted, scooping the last of the pasta onto his plate before setting the pot back on the stove. “It’s not like we had to bust out the ninja moves, but just knowing what went down in Oroku Tower seriously set us on edge the whole time.”

            “ _You_ were seriously on edge.” Leo corrected. “I don’t see why you still get so nervous around Karai, Mikey. Sensei trusts her, I trust her; shell, Donnie even works for her!”

            “Bah, you only trust her because you’re still crushing on her, bro.” He flashed a devilish grin as he took a seat, stabbing the ziti onto his fork.

            “She’s married, Michelangelo, how many times do we have to go over this?”

            “Bill Clinton was married, dude, and it sure didn’t stop him from…”

            “Perhaps this conversation is not one for the dinner table, my sons.” Splinter interrupted, changing the subject. “Donatello, how was your first day of employment?”

            “It was awesome, Sensei.” Don’s face lit up like a sunbeam. “Everything’s even better than expected. The facilities are gorgeous, and the staff are all very pleasant. Surprisingly, even Casey!”

            “You guys seriously got to see Donnie’s joint sometime.” I added. “Dude’s got an office like the Taj Mahal.”

            “I am sure it is quite impressive. I trust you did not get in the way too much, Raphael?”

            “Get in the way?” I murmured. “No way, I…”

            “Raph was actually a big help.” Don said swiftly. “Having someone to bounce ideas off of is essential when you’re dealing primarily with theory.”

            “Yeah, Raph’s great for that…” Mike giggled, barely able to finish his joke. “With a head as fat as his, there’s so much space for the ideas to bounce off!”

            “Hey Mike.” I growled, choking down a bite of chicken. “How about you tell me which genes you got to target to prevent destruction of the substantia nigra by Lewy body accumulation?” At that, Leo and Mike looked like they’d just been punched in the gut, while Don and Splinter looked like proud parents watching their kid take his first steps. I couldn’t help but let a laugh out. “Just ‘cause you don’t got a clue what Donny does all day, doesn’t mean we all got fat heads like you, _fathead_.”

            “Gosh, Donnie, maybe you should start taking Mikey to work.” Leo chuckled.

            “Not if I’ll end up a brainwashed genius-lite like Raph did! My brain is just the way I like it.”

            “Thank god you ain’t the breadwinner of the family, Mike; with your brain, I doubt you could even be a janitor at Don’s place.” Klunk rubbed against my shin under the table, and I slyly dropped a chunk of chicken down to him.

            “Oh, please, bro. If I were looking for a job, it’d probably be swimsuit model, action movie star, pro skateboarder…you know, jobs where you don’t need a big brain to make big bucks.”

            “Could add professional chef to that list.” Leo smiled. “The meal is awesome, Mike.”

            “Well, I’m glad _someone_ appreciates my craft.” He held a hand to his forehead dramatically. “I don’t slave over a hot stove to get insulted by Mister Meat-for-Brains over here.” He stuck his tongue out at me, but for once, I chose to hold mine.

 

* * *

 

 

            “ _Let your hair down, have one more round, drink ‘til you believe it,_

_Sloppy kisses, dirty wishes, baby, this is living._

_Rollercoaster, up and down in random motion,_

_Oh, come in closer, ditch your problems, better days are coming…_ ”

            “Yo Raph!” A voice bellowed over the blast of music. Opening my eyes, I heaved the barbell back onto the rack and reached for my phone to pause the music. Donnie leaned in the archway to the dojo.

            “’Sup?”

            “Listen, I know I didn’t discuss this with you before, but…” his eyes did a quick sweep of the room, making sure we were alone, and he lowered his voice. “I haven’t told Master Splinter I’m getting paid for work. Well, at least not a regular salary. As far as he knows, it’s more of a volunteer thing, and Karai throws us a bit to help out when we need it.”

            “Huh. Yeah, no sweat. Sorry, I guess I should have asked what’s classified and what’s okay to share. But uh…why the secrecy?”

            “Let’s put it this way: if Mikey knew I made enough to replace every TV in the house once a week, do you think he’d still heed Master Splinter’s warnings about running in the living room?”

            “That’s…wow, that’s a really good analogy. I think I get it, D. We got a certain lifestyle down here, and you don’t want the money to change it.”

            “On the nose.” He smiled warmly. “Hey, you mind if I work in with you?”

            “You sure?” I gestured to his bum leg and crutch.

            “I have a torn tendon, Raph, it doesn’t make me an invalid!”

            “All yours, bro. Just been a while since I’ve seen you work out, is all.” I hit the play button on my phone as he laid back and gripped the cold steel. “Welcome to _my_ office.”

            “ _Get up off the wall, come on, get down, get down,_

_Give into the moment and live now, live now,_

_Get up off the wall, come on, get down, get down,_

_Give into the moment, feel it now…_ ”

 

* * *

 

 

            _“Eighteen…Nineteen…” I filled my lungs with breath, grating my teeth as my arms gave one ultimate push. “Twenty!” I let the barbell clang back onto the rack, and sprung up from the bench like a gymnast. “And the crowd goes wild! Putting up three hundred pounds in three sets of twenty, Raphael is the strongest pre-teen turtle in the universe!” Grabbing my threadbare old towel from the bench, I rubbed my forehead to get the sweat off. “Raph-ie! Raph-ie! Raph-ie!” I imagined an audience at the Olympics in a standing ovation as they presented me with the gold medal._

_“Crouching tiger…” I heard a quiet voice from the edge of the room. “Hidden…Donnie!”_

_“Huh?” I had barely pulled the towel off my face, when I saw a blur of green and purple bolting straight toward my head. No time to react; I braced for impact as he latched onto my shoulders, sending me tumbling back onto my shell._

_“Strongest pre-teen turtle in the universe, huh?” Donnie smirked, pinning all of my limbs._

_“Yeah! If I’m not, how could I do this?” Wriggling my legs loose and kicking them up, I built up enough momentum to send us rolling back in the opposite direction we’d fallen. With a loud knock, it was Don who was stuck on his shell beneath my weight._

_“Woah! How did you do that?” I watched the gears turn in the little genius’ head as he tried to copy what he’d just seen me do. The only difference was that there was no way his legs were getting out from under mine; despite only a one-year age gap between us, I had a good fifty pounds on him, and all the grunting, wiggling, and thrusting in the world wasn’t going to make me budge. At least, I didn’t think so._

_While I had the edge in weight, Don always had legs like a stork: super long, relative to the rest of his body. With his ankles and wrists pressed firm into the ground, he was still able to get a knee up in between my legs, right at the middle of my plastron, in an attempt to get some leverage and throw me off. Try as he might, his struggling wasn’t accomplishing much, other than getting puffs of hot breath across my collar bone and a lot of friction in a very tender area. A funny kind of feeling started growing down there: not an unfamiliar one, but a sensation I’d only ever noticed when waking up or scrubbing it in the shower. This time, though, there was a warm, lean body writhing underneath me, biting his lip in determination, with a look in those bottomless brown eyes like he wanted to win, to show how strong he could be for me, to make me happy…_

_This wasn’t right. I jumped up onto my feet, turning my back to my captive as he got up and brushed himself off._

_“Does this mean I win?” He bolted to my side, looking just as confused as I felt._

_“Sure, Donnie.” I barked, pushing him behind me. “Now back off.”_

_“Wait up!” He persisted. “I only came into the weight room ‘cause Sensei found the latest Motor Trend in the tunnels! The one with the new NSX, they got rid of the pop-up headlights and upgraded…”_

_“I said back off, twerp!” I roared in his face, with a glare that must have looked like a grizzly bear. He practically shrank into the floor, absolute terror in his eyes. “I’m going in my room, and you ain’t following me, capisce?”_

_Before he could muster up a response, I slammed the door behind me, flopping onto my bed and screaming into the pillows until my throat was hoarse. A few months back, Splinter had given us that god-awful, awkward, vague talk about our bodies “changing”, and told us to come to him if we ever had any questions. This, though, didn’t seem like the kind of thing you tell your dad; hell, it didn’t seem like the kind of thing you tell anyone. Whatever I was changing into, it wasn’t what I wanted, it wasn’t what I was supposed to be. Getting all worked up like that, over my own brother? In a family of mutants living in a sewer, I was a freak among freaks._

_I could only hope Donnie didn’t notice what had happened. If he knew, it was over. He’d tell Leo, he’d tell Splinter, and I’d be out on my ass, left alone to rot in the sewage like a bag of garbage._

            “Ugh.” I blinked the sleep out of my eyes, as I came to in the darkness of my room. If you’ve never woken up with both tears staining your pillowcase and a rock-hard boner under your sheets, consider yourself grateful; it’s a very confusing situation, and in my case, it left me feeling like a bag of garbage. The dream wasn’t one that came back to me often, maybe once or twice a year, but it was equally unpleasant every time. Once my tears had dried and everything else had wound down, I figured a late-night piss and a glass of water would do me some good.

            Carefully letting my door creak open, I tiptoed past Leo’s room as quietly as I could. Seeing the lair this dark and quiet was a rare sight for me; even coming back late from runs to the surface with Casey, usually either Leo or Splinter were up waiting with a couple lights on for me. Tonight, only one faint source of light trickled across the floor downstairs, and it was coming from Don’s lab. Not knowing exactly what drew me toward it, I turned back, creeping down the stairs and across the floor.

            “I told you, Mikey, it wouldn’t be ready for at least a couple days. I’m just shaping the…” Don started as soon as I crossed the threshold, his door left slightly ajar, before he turned back. “Nightmare?”

            “Something like that.” I mumbled, wiping my cheek again in case there really were any telltale signs. “Hey, that stuff we were talking about at work today…You ain’t gonna tell nobody about it, right?”

            “You don’t want Leo knowing you put on Frank Ocean for the ride home?” He teased. “No, bro, I trusted you with some pretty personal info today too, and I know you wouldn’t share it either. You have my word.”

            “Good. Don’t think I’ve ever clobbered a guy with a busted leg, and I don’t want to start now.” I grinned. “Now get some sleep; if Leo finds you in here come morning, he’s gonna bust your good leg.”

            “Your way with words is unrivaled, Raph. Have you considered poetry?” Thinking as quickly as I could in the middle of the night, I counted syllables into 5/7/5 on my fingers, starting:

            “Your jokes are lame, bro,

            But your secret’s safe with me.

            Get your ass to bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's bop: "We Own The Night" by Dance Gavin Dance!
> 
> I figure it's worth mentioning, I don't just include music in my stories to shoehorn my favorite artists into your reading (for example, I don't even like Nas that much). Rather, the lyrics are obviously chosen for subtext therein, and the genres/artists are supposed to reflect certain traits about the brothers. For instance:
> 
> Raph: East Coast rap and hardcore/metal, with a secret appreciation for soft boi R&B (One of my housemates in school was from Brooklyn, physically huge and intimidating, angry but sensitive, and rode motorcycles - basically a human Raph, and this was what he was into lmao)
> 
> Don: Ordinarily I'd say nerd stuff like classical and jazz, but fuck it, I could see him liking EDM and R&B, even if only to come off as more relatable to his bros
> 
> Mike: West Coast rap, reggae, punk (think the soundtrack from GTA San Andreas, and the Tony Hawk games)
> 
> Leo: either indie and classic rock 'cause he's basic af, or some kind of traditional Japanese music 'cause he's a fuckin' weeb lol


	5. Chapter 5

            _“What about that one, the MR2 Spyder?” Raphael pointed to the picture in the worn magazine, a sunflower yellow convertible with a beachfront view in the background. “Like the best parts of a Miata and a Boxster combined. Just think about the weight distribution!”_

_“You really like convertibles, huh?” I asked, noticing it had been the fourth one he pointed out tonight._

_“Same reason I like motorcycles, I guess. Can you imagine the wind rushing by you, sun on your shell, cruising down Cross Bay Boulevard at top speed with the water on both sides?”_

_It had become a bit of a tradition over the past couple years, these late nights on Raph’s mattress, poking around through magazines and maps of the city, dreaming of what it would be like to live outside the sewers for a moment in time. Even before we got our own rooms, I had a difficult time falling asleep; my mind always had a tendency to run on and on, long after it should have let me rest. Sensei’s breathing exercises and chamomile tea had helped a bit, but at least once a week, I found myself snuggled up tight against my big brother’s chest, keeping our voices low to not wake the others._

_“You think we’ll ever get to really drive?” I looked up at him. Sleep threatened to take him soon; his eyes lazily blinked, and a yawn split his mouth as he stretched an arm out before wrapping it back around me to grip the magazine._

_“I know you will, Donnie. You’re way too smart to not think of something eventually.” His other hand rubbed the back of my head tenderly, and he slowly started to lean back into his pillow._

_“We could wear trenchcoats to cover our shells…” His yawn sure was contagious. “Spray-tan our face and hands like Donald Trump.”_

_“Mmm…Could find another can of ooze.” He mumbled. “Double mutant…shape-shifters.”_

_“Silly…Raphie…” The gentle rise and fall of his chest was the perfect lullaby, and as I tucked my head underneath his chin, my mind was finally at peace enough to let me sleep._

            A knock at the door sprung my head off its pillow like a jack-in-the-box, jarring me from the blissful scene. Making sure to pile my sheets on top of the…unwelcome visitor, so to say, that usually reared its throbbing head after that particular dream, I shouted,

            “Come in!”

            “Can’t keep staying up late on work nights, bro.” Raph’s head poked in. “Got about twenty minutes to get ready if you don’t want bad marks on your attendance. That’s gotta be a bad look on your second day.”

            “What am I supposed to do if I’m late, fire myself?” He pushed the rest of his body through the door frame, and the scents of maple, cinnamon, oatmeal, and coffee filled the room. In his arms, he held a tray bearing my usual breakfast. As he set it on my lap, I noticed how perfectly he got it, down to the smallest detail: no cream or sugar in the coffee, the dinosaur egg oatmeal from the back of the pantry, and two bananas, cut into slices but not mixed into the oatmeal yet. “What’s the occasion?”

            “Don’t got time for you to hobble around the kitchen if we’re gonna be in by nine. Figured you should wolf this down, hop in the shower, and suit up ASAP.” A shrill shout seemed to siren down the hallway behind him. “I’m surprised you could stay asleep this late, with Mikey running around like Pinocchio all morning.”

            “I’m a real boy! A real boy! Hey Sensei, check it out, I’m a real boy!” The voice seemed to draw closer.

            “You showed him how to use it?”

            “He wouldn’t let me _not_ show him, once he saw it was finished.”

            Like lightning incarnate, a freckled adolescent with long, messy orange hair popped up over Raph’s shoulder, piercing baby blue eyes a dead giveaway as to his true identity.

            “Donnie, you freaking mad scientist, you! Come here, dude, I gotta kiss you!” Raph shot an arm out with a scowl, blocking him from entering the room.

            “You’re not spilling that breakfast on his sheets, twerp. Got no time to be his maid, too.” He growled.

            “A ‘thank you’ would suffice, Mikey. I’m glad you like it!”

            “First thing I’m doing is hitting Papaya King, I’m gonna grab twenty hot dogs and six shakes, and then I’m gonna take the skateboard out around Central Park, and then…” he bounced off down the hallway just as quickly as he’d came, followed shortly after by Master Splinter shaking his hanbo and shouting, “Not until Leonardo gets his, you won’t!”

 

* * *

 

 

            “You’re sure you don’t want to pick a song? I feel like you’re spoiling me, Don.”

            “Says the guy who brought me breakfast in bed.”

            “I’m serious! Alright, pick a genre, at least. If rap’s really not your thing, I don’t wanna tarnish your ride with it twice in a row.”

            “For the record, I’m totally fine with it! But if you’re going to be stubborn about it, then R&B.”

            “Dammit, bro, you’re only saying that ‘cause I put on Frank Ocean the other day!”

            “And I didn’t even know you liked that kind of music until you put it on! Seriously, any artist under that tab, I’ll enjoy it. Pick a song you haven’t heard yet, if it makes you feel any better.”

            “Fine. Uh…” he randomly stabbed a finger at the screen, not taking his eyes off the road. “There.”

            “ _There’s a war on love, just look around you._

_It’s hard to know who to trust, I’m glad I found you._

_You and me climb higher, baby crescendo._

_Got a love that won’t stop, it’s that extendo._ ”

            “Take this left here.” I interrupted his subtle head nods to the beat, and he turned to look at me after eyeing the street signs.

            “I hate to tell you this, Don, but the lab ain’t in Brooklyn.”

            “We’re not going to the lab yet, doofus.” I elbowed him in the arm. “Fridays are when Chaplin, Leatherhead, April, and I meet to discuss funding, collaborative work, and so on. The meeting’s not until the afternoon, and you said it yourself: we can get a whole day’s worth of work done in an hour.”

            “Hey, you’re the boss, boss. So where are we going?”

            “Shush, it’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.”

            “ _Banana clip on my love for you, I let it ring like,_

_Yeah, I let it ring like, I guess I’m trigger happy._

_You know I stay down, way down for you, talking limbo._

_And my love, it won’t stop, got that extendo_.”

            I think he had an inkling of where we were headed when we got off the Belt Parkway, but by the time we cleared Howard Beach and got on the Addabbo Bridge, he must have known. It wasn’t quite the convertible he had dreamed of, and he knew well not to actually try for top speed, but judging by the way he opened the sunroof and all the windows just as the transmission kicked into sixth gear, Raph seemed as content as I’d seen him in years.

            For two guys who’d spent almost their whole lives in the Five Boroughs, it’s amazing how grabbing boardwalk burritos and spending a hot summer morning on Rockaway Beach still practically felt like a trip to a tropical resort. The beach was near empty that time of day, aside from some older folks and moms with young kids, so we had a wide expanse of sand just to ourselves. One downside of playing hooky to take such an impromptu trip was that I hadn’t brought any towels, Frisbees, or swim trunks, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Once Raph was assured that our disguise units and my cast were waterproof, he had no qualms about stripping down to his underwear and running headfirst into the surf, which left me with no choice but to follow suit. After a while of splashing around, he kept looking over his shoulder warily, and signaled for me to come closer.

            “Why do they keep eyeing us?” he gestured discreetly to an elderly couple seated under an umbrella on the beach nearby.

            “If I had to guess…” I leaned in to his ear. “They’re a straight white couple, watching what, to them, appears to be a scantily-clad interracial gay couple frolicking in the water. Even in twenty-first century New York, not everyone’s exactly up to speed with that.”

            “Wanna give ‘em a show, then?” A devious grin overtook his lips, and I had only just begun to consider exactly what he meant when a hand planted firmly on the back of my neck, and those lips came crashing toward mine. The contact was electric; feeling his teeth lightly rake across my bottom lip, the stubble on his cheek graze against mine, and his fiery breath travelling down my neck damn near made me pass out and fall backward into the ocean.

            I could scarcely even believe what was happening, even as he pulled away, thinking it obvious I was still in a dream. Breakfast in bed? A kiss on the beach? Mikey looking like the boy from How To Train Your Dragon? This whole morning was the longest, most vivid dream sequence I could recall experiencing, but I knew I’d be waking up any moment now.

            “Heh, look at ‘em now. Prudes!” he cackled, and my eyes registered the wife fanning herself dramatically with her book as her husband grimaced and looked away. I think I went a whole thirty seconds still paralyzed in the same position, wondering how much longer I’d be immersed in this for. “Oh, fuck me…”

            “Huh?” I stammered, finally snapping out of it.

            “I’m such a fucking asshole!” he seethed, stomping off toward the beach and continuing to berate himself. “Perfect day and I have to go and fuck it up like that! Smooth move, Raph, you fucking freak!”

            “Wait, Raph, I…” I trudged after him.

            “Donnie, look, you didn’t deserve that.” He turned to face me, and though it may have been saltwater, it certainly looked like tears were starting to well up in his eyes. “I fucked up big time, bro, I’m sorry. You take me out, show me a good time, and of course, I see an opportunity to show off, and I jump on it like a fucking idiot, and now I just forced you to make out with your own brother.”

            “Raph, you’re not even letting me…”

            “Just, please, Don, I beg you…don’t tell nobody.” He fell to his knees on the sand, letting his head hang in his hands. “You already know Mikey can’t keep a secret if his life depends on it, and Leo would tell Splinter in a heartbeat, and god only knows what Splinter’s gonna do to me when he…”

            I took control of situation the only way I could think of: kneeling down, picking his chin up, and diving in for a second taste. This time, he was the one frozen in place, and I practically had to run my free hand through his tangle of chest hair to make sure I could still feel a pulse. Getting caught so off-guard left his jaw completely slack, and I let my tongue draw a line down the top of his as I pulled away for a breath.

            “Only if you promise not to tell anyone about that one.”

 

* * *

 

 

            The walk back to the car, clothes slung over our shoulders as the sun dried our trunks, was thick with silence, though not so much one of awkwardness as it was one of sheer disbelief.

            “So, just to clarify,” Raph finally spoke up after clearing his throat. “I’m not dreaming, right?”

            “I think one of us would have woken up by now, so yes. Hopefully, yes.”

            “Okay. Good.” Another pause. “And, just to be sure, it’s _me_ you’re into, not this disguise? Cause, I mean, you’re looking pretty good right now, don’t get me wrong, but…”

            “Yes, Raph, it’s you.” I assured him, tossing the crutch in the back and hopping in. “Pretty natural for a turtle to be interested in another turtle, in a biological sense.”

            “Good point,” The car roared to life, and he picked another song before backing out of the parking spot. “One more thing: does Casey have any security cameras in your office?”

            “None that can’t be disabled with the push of a button.”

            “Halle-fucking-lujah.”

            “ _Tell me what you really like, baby, I can take my time,_

_We don’t ever have to fight, just take it step by step._

_I can see it in your eyes, ‘cause they never tell me lies,_

_I can feel that body shake, and the heat between your legs._ ”

 

* * *

 

 

            My attention span during that meeting was lower than absolute zero. Luckily, if anyone noticed, they hadn’t called me out on it; I presented the grants I’d approved on Tuesday, and agreed to start looking into neuro-compatible fluid mediums that could link up damaged nerves to April’s plans for prosthetic limbs. The meeting was thankfully brief, but as we left the boardroom, Leatherhead hit me with an unsettling observation.

            “There is something off about you, my friend.”

            “Huh? Oh, I’m just running low on sleep, is all.” I tried to think quickly. “Still have to install a coffee-maker in the office, you know!”

            “You don’t seem any more sleep-deprived than usual, Donatello.” He gave me a concerned look, his black and yellow eyes the only part of his disguise looking not quite human. “It’s in your scent.”

            “My scent? Uh…We did go for a swim earlier. Sorry, after living in a sewer for so long, I guess the water around the Rockaways smells good in comparison!”

            “Yes…” he didn’t seem convinced. “That must be it.”

 

* * *

 

 

            When I made it back to my office, Raph wasn’t seated at the bar where I’d left him, but his disguise unit and a fresh glass sat on the stool where he had been. Letting the door close behind me, I tensed up as two three-fingered hands roughly grabbed my waist, one riding up my abdomen and the other fishing around for my disguise unit.

            “Gotta get that thing off.” His rumbling bass purred into my ear. “Waited too long for this…Gotta have it with the real you.”

            “I’ve only been gone twenty minutes!” I giggled as his lips began to tantalize my neck.

            “Yeah, well I’ve been thinking about this for years. Making up for lost time, you know.”

            “Raph, how long have you felt this way about me?” He pulled my turtleneck up off over my head, and started fiddling with the fly of my slacks.

            “Since Acura got rid of the pop-up lights on the NSX…why, what about you?”

            “Since the MR2 Spyder came out. Jeez…We should get started right away, then.” I smirked, and he stepped back as I removed the disguise unit and shifted back into my usual form. I dug a nail under the plastic skin on one arm, peeling it off like a screen protector, while his firm grip returned and did the same to my other arm.

            “Wanted to lay some rules down first, before we let this go any further, though.”

            “Rules? Like what?”

            “Number one: we’re taking this as slow as you want; you ain’t gonna let me rush you, and if whatever I’m doing is too much, you say the word and I’ll back off.”

            “Fair enough.” I held my breath as the polymer came off my face.

            “Number two: we gotta keep it outside the lair. Last thing we need is Big-Head and Air-Head finding out about us, and especially Splinter. And number three:” he yanked my trunks down with a sudden tug, the last of the plastic coming off with them. “Anything you want, you name it, and I’ll do it for you. No questions asked.”

            “You make a tempting offer…though this could be considered coercion, you know.” I shuddered, planting my hand on top of his as it caressed my inner thigh. “How am I supposed to say no when you’ve got me like this?”

            “Just call Rule One on me, bro.”

            “I never said I didn’t want it.” I turned to face him, registering the pure need in those lime-green eyes as I pressed my lips deeply into his. As he leaned into the kiss, I let out a subtle gasp of pain when the weight started to bear down on my injured leg. Sensing this, he swept me up into his arms, letting my crutch clatter to the floor, and showered me with a trail of kisses down my jawline and neck as he carried me across the room and set me down on the bar counter.

            “Mmm…Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me for so long, D.” I nearly choked as he nibbled lightly at the skin of my collar bone. “Felt like a freak for wanting you like this.”

            “Feels so natural now, though.” I murmured. His hands shifted lower, cupping my glutes and giving them a squeeze like he was juicing a lemon. “April’s supposed to come by in ten minutes, by the way.”

            “Call her up and tell her twenty.” He growled hungrily.

            “Fifteen.”

            “Deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, tonight's bops are:
> 
> "Banana Clip" by Miguel,
> 
> and ""I Feel It Coming" by The Weeknd, featuring Daft Punk.
> 
> Thanks for playing another exciting round of "Suuri Wants You To Smash Dat MF Mute Button On Whatever Weak Shit You Bumping And Step Up Onto This Transcendent Shit Bruh!"
> 
> (While I'm not saying it's crucial you listen to the included songs to properly feel the story, I am saying that if a hot brainy daddy let me whip his Bimmer to the beach while bumping Banana Clip, I would totally make out with him. Shit, I've already far overused the word 'bop' thus far, but of all bops, that shit BOPS like a mf Bop-It.)


	6. Chapter 6

            I must have looked like some kind of idiot, grinning all stupidly the rest of the day. Kissing Don on the beach, telling him how I felt about him, laying him out on the bar and sucking some serious face…What else could I do but smile? April didn’t say nothing in the lab, but over dinner, Mike was a totally different story.

            “What did he inject you with today, Guy Smiley? Some kind of mutant rabies zombie virus?”

            “Yeah, Mikey, you caught me.” Don chuckled from across the table. “Turns out, Raph’s the real patient zero in I Am Legend.”

            “I told you, Leo.” He not-quite-whispered. “Brainwashing.”

            “I’m just glad I didn’t have to cook tonight, is all. Haven’t had real sushi like this since our last time in Japan.” I tried to cover my ass. “Forgot how good it is.”

            “Hey, if being Donnie’s walking petri dish means you can come back with takeout, I say you start working full-time.” Mike beamed, tossing another two unagi rolls in his mouth with his chopsticks.

            “Michelangelo, you cannot expect your brother to find such elegant cuisine every night.” Splinter objected. “True wasabi this pungent, and mekajiki this fresh, must have been quite difficult to come by.”

            “Well…Karai does let us write some things off as business expenses.” Don conceded, his gaze shifting to mine. “Food is easy enough to slip by her bookkeepers, and…”

            “What Einstein’s trying to say is, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” I interjected. Shooting a look to Leo, I asked, “So, what did you and Tweedle-Dum get done today?”

            “Nothing, really. No evidence at Karai’s tower, just like she said, and the hotel’s still sealed off by the police.”

            “Psh, didn’t realize police tape was strong enough to stop a ninja.” I mused.

            “You want to come back with me tonight, have a little A-Team reunion?” He surprised me with that. “Or has white-collar work really wiped you out that quickly?”

            “Heh, we’ll see who’s wiped out after I race you there.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “It’s just like Karai said.” Don’s voice crackled over the video chat. “No shrapnel patterns suggesting a bomb was used, and the mass spectrometer readings don’t show any kind of fuel other than the gas lines inside the hotel.”

            “That’s assuming I’m even using this spectro-doohickey right.” I laughed, tucking the device back into my belt. “Would be a hell of a lot easier if you were here.”

            “You’re a natural, bro, trust me.” His praise never failed to spark a warmth in my chest.

            “Thanks, D. Probably gonna poke around a little bit more, but I’ll see you soon.”

            “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He teased, winking before ending the call.

            “This just doesn’t add up.” Leo mulled, kneeling over to look more closely at the black marks on the pavement where the guy in the hood had blown up the week before. “I’ve never heard of a single true spontaneous combustion before, let alone two in a month…” he turned back, regarding me with a cocked eyebrow. “You’re sure you’re feeling alright, Raph?”

            “Huh?” Goddamn it. Even just seeing Don’s face and hearing his voice over the phone had me looking like a lovesick puppy again. “How many times I gotta tell you, I’m fantastic!” I tucked my sais into my belt and sprung backward to walk on my hands. “See? Fit as a fiddle.”

            “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” He crossed his arms. “You’ve been acting like Mikey when he gets a new video game.”

            “Well…” It’s tough thinking on the fly when you’re getting grilled by Inspector Fearless. “You saw how Mike was when he got that disguise unit this morning. He was psyched, and I’m still pretty psyched about mine. Getting to walk around up here in broad daylight, working in Don’s swanky lab, it’s just…it’s awesome. You’ll probably be acting like a bigger spaz than me when you get yours.”

            “Hmm.” He seemed to buy it at first. “You know, Splinter was right.”

            “About what?”

            “Donnie really does temper you out.” His face wore an annoyingly knowing smirk. “Usually, you’d have just told me to go suck an egg, instead of bothering to cook up a lie to answer my question.”

            “Oh god, first Mike, and now you too? For the last time, I’m not being brainwashed!”

            “I just hope that this time, when you get bored of him and ditch him to keep up the ‘lone wolf’ act, you can do it in a way that doesn’t burn him so badly. He’s not just a brain, you know; he has a heart too, and you’ll hurt it again if you make the same mistakes.”

            “You...That’s not…” I gripped my sais unconsciously, squeezing almost hard enough to draw blood. “Quit talking out of your ass, Fearless. You got no idea what you’re saying.”

            “Don’t play dumb, Raph. Back when we were kids, you and I were best friends. Then, practically from the day I got chosen as leader, you and Don were attached at the hip. After a while, you cut him off, and he came running to me. For the first time since I was chosen, I had someone I could trust, someone to confide in. Now, for whatever reason, that someone is swinging back toward you.”

            “Is that why you dragged me out here with you?” I fumed. “To bicker over Don like two divorced parents? You don’t trust the smartest guy on the planet to decide who to spend time with?”

            “It’s not that I don’t trust his choice, it’s that I don’t understand why he’s making it. What exactly is going on between you two?”

            “Do you even hear yourself right now, you fucking idiot? Two days, we spent together, and you’re coming at me like we’re eloping! I could ask the same things about you and Mike!”

            “I didn’t bring Mikey breakfast in bed this morning, and I wasn’t just making goo-goo eyes at Mikey on the phone.”

            That was it: I was going to murder Leo, dump his body in the Hudson, and ride west until my bike ran out of gas. Midway through planning the route of tunnels I’d have to drag his lifeless shell down to get rid of it, I had a thought: the prize Leo was trying to fight over, I had already won it. He was trying to battle from the low ground; that’s why his tone kept getting less smug and more desperate.

            “You know what, Leo? Why don’t you call up Don right now, and tell him you don’t want him hanging around the Big Bad Raphie anymore? That way, you and him can have more time to play in your room, making some goddamn origami and reading poetry together, or whatever bullshit you got planned. Go on, just tell him how you feel! Here, you can use my phone!” I pulled out my cell and poked him right in the solar plexus with it. He eyed it warily for a second, but didn’t move or say a thing. I pocketed the phone, and jumped up onto the fire escape beside me, shouting down, “That’s what I thought. See you back at the lair.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “ _You’re so careless, careless, how did you get so ungrateful?_

_You treat me like a disease, oh, and it’s been killing me._

_Chances are you never even cared at all._

_I’m sure that you had your reasons, but I’ll never get to hear the truth._ ”

            Thinking back on all the times I’d imagined Leo’s face on my punching bag, I’m surprised I never got around to painting it on there. Tonight, it would have helped: two hours of wailing on the poor thing, and I didn’t feel any less furious than when I started. My knuckles were cracked, and wincing as the sting of blood met the fabric, I headbutted the bag and turned away, leaning into the wall and screwing my eyes tightly shut.

            I’d say I won our argument, but it didn’t fix how pissed off Leo had gotten me. Only he could take me out on what was literally the best day of my life, and in a one-hour timeframe, make me want to crush his windpipe like it was any other day. For someone who claimed to so concerned about his brothers’ feelings getting hurt, he sure knew how to do it like a pro.

            “ _Slipshod cavalier, I can’t stand to see those things that,_

_You have taken for granted, thrown away everything you’ve been handed._

_Too much all at once, that’s how you got so ungrateful._

_All you saw was the burden, standing beside all your blessed truths._ ”

            This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I closed the music app on my phone, and turned the lights out in the gym. Maybe it was worth taking Splinter and Leo’s advice, finding the one who could calm me down. Now in near-complete darkness, I could see the light in his lab was off. From his bedroom door, though, I could make out a crack of dim light sliding under the doorframe. Thank god the brainiac was an insomniac too. As quietly as a mouse, I tiptoed up the stairs, and gently slid his door open.

            “So much for Rule Two, huh?” he smirked. Don was sprawled out in bed, “ _The Politics of Social Ecology_ ” in hand as he read by the light of his bedside lamp.

            “Just wanna talk.” I grumbled, and he shifted his legs aside so I could sit at the foot of his bed.

            “Leo really ticked you off this time.” He noted. “I wonder if Chaplin would let me swipe enough Kevlar to make you a better punching bag.”

            “He just…really knows how to hit a nerve, I guess.”

            “He’s had a lot of practice over the years. What was it about?”

            “It’s…” Was I supposed to say that we were fighting over him? “Don, he thinks I’m gonna hurt you.”

            “He knows about us?” He dog-eared his place in the book and set it down.

            “I don’t think so. Says he can tell something’s up. You know Leo; he thinks he’s the master of deduction.”

            “And now that he’s picked up a scent, he won’t get off its trail until he finds the source.”

            “Then you gotta promise you’ll smack me upside the head if I start getting all lovey-dovey when he’s in earshot…Apparently I can’t help myself.” I blushed, scratching at the back of my neck.

            “I think you’re asking the wrong turtle, Raph.” He leaned forward slowly, toothy grin only inches from mine now. “Because I can’t either.”

            Knowing what he wanted, I planted my hands beside him on the mattress and leaned straight into his lips. He grabbed at my shoulder, pulling me in deeper as his tongue danced around to meet mine. Crawling further up the bed and straddling him, I lifted a hand to stroke his cheek softly, before pulling away briefly.

            “I should go. You’re gonna make me…”

            “We can break the rules this time.” He slid a hand down to my glutes, thumb stroking the base of my tail. “Everyone’s asleep, right?”

            He didn’t have to tell me twice. Starting at his lips, I laid a trail of kisses and nips down his jaw, tracing the muscles of his neck, and finding a spot right where they met his collar bone that made him cry out with a hushed moan. His free hand gripped my chest, while the other slid down to stroke circles around the sensitive slit of cartilage toward the bottom of my plastron. With a shudder, my cock slipped out, quickly filling with blood until it pointed straight as an arrow. He reached to wrap it in his palm, but I lowered myself down to his ear, and whispered coarsely,

            “Wanna see yours’ first.”

            Like clockwork, his own cock tumbled out of hiding, skinnier and a bit longer than my own, and I eyed it like it was a popsicle on a hot summer day. Letting my mouth plunge back into his, I reached down and gripped his shaft firmly. He let out a soft churr as I began to pump my hand up and down, and felt an electric shock run up my spine as he did the same to mine. I could feel my fingers getting sticky as he began to weep pre, its sweet musk filling my nose and practically making me lose my balance. Assuming he had the same sweet spot as my own, I changed up my grip, and rolled my thumb around the tender flesh at the underside of his head.

            “Nngh…Raph!” he panted, and I could feel his pulse quicken. “I’m gonna…” Before he could even finish his thought, every muscle in his body seemed to tense, and he bit down on his lip as ropes of hot spunk shot out onto my chest, dripping down onto his. I didn’t think I was close, but seeing that twisting, writhing, grunting scene underneath me sure brought me there quick.

            “Oh fuck, Don…” My hips thrust into his hand, accelerating until I knew I was past the point of no return. Burying my head in the crook of his neck, I let out a long, needy sigh as cum jetted out and plastered both of us. I collapsed onto him, completely spent and out of breath.

            Leo and Splinter were right; Don knew exactly how to temper me out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bop: "Imaginary Enemy" by Circa Survive
> 
> Don's book: "The Politics of Social Ecology: Libertarian Municipalism" by Murray Bookchin


	7. Chapter 7

            I legitimately slept like a baby, for what felt like the first time since I was one. It would have been nicer if Raph could have stayed, I’m sure, but he was right to be wary of getting caught. From what he’d said, it sounded like Leo suspected something was going on between us, and I was happy to keep his perception at that level of vagueness. The last thing I needed was him poking his head into my room, looking for advice or an ear to vent to as he often did, and seeing Raph and I…well, doing something that would best be done privately.

            My mind began to mull over all the possible downsides of being in love with one’s coworker, housemate, and brother. While the idea of “keeping it outside the lair”, as Raph had put it, seemed foolproof at face value, it took about eight hours for the first slip-up to happen. And how is anyone supposed to only be in love two days a week? It wouldn’t be fair to us. Furthermore, keeping up a lie about such a matter wouldn’t fair to the rest of the family. The prospect of telling my father and brothers was something I’d thought about in the past, but always feared enough to have a contingency plan in case things turned out badly. Now that Raph was in the picture, it became more complicated.

            I found myself alone in the kitchen, coffee in hand, still thinking about what a hairy situation I had on my hands. Before long, though, the tranquil silence of the lair in early morning was shattered by a sudden surge in TV volume roaring from the living room. Of course: it was Saturday, which meant it was time for Mikey to lose some more brain cells watching cartoons.

            “ _Keep your stance wide, keep your body lowered,_

_As you’re moving forward, balance is the key._

_Right foot, left foot, now go even faster,_

_And as you’re moving backwards, keep your eyes on me.”_

            Something about the gentle piano and theatrical voice, albeit overpowered by Mike’s off-key accompaniment, didn’t seem like average children’s programming. I craned my neck through the archway to see Mike standing on the sofa, reenacting the characters’ movements on-screen, while seated next to him laughing was, of all people, Leo.

            “ _On the battlefield, when everything is chaos,_

_And you have nothing but the way you feel, your strategy, and a sword._

_You just think about the life you’ll have together after the war,_

_And then you do it for her, that’s how know you can win._

_You do it for her, that is to say, you do it for him._ ”

            “Hey Liberace!” Mike ducked expertly, as a book and a shout came flying from Raph’s door. “Some people are still trying to sleep in Connecticut!”

            “My bad, Rip Van Stink-le!” he taunted back, sticking his tongue out.

            “So, who is she talking about when she says ‘do it for her’?” Leo asked as Mike sat back down, the volume back at a reasonable level.

            “Alright, I’ll try to give you a quick crash course. So, the white bird lady and the short purple lady, they’re both intergalactic rock warriors, right? The little chubby dude is half-intergalactic rock warrior too. And bird lady and chubby dude’s mom used to be in love, back when they were rebels against their home planet’s domination of earth. So, like, she’s telling the little nerd girl to fight for chubby dude the way that she used to fight for his mom.”

            “Wait, they’re all women except the boy?” Leo exclaimed.

            “Well, they’re rocks, but yeah, dude, basically they present as female. See the big maroon cube lady?” he pointed as another character appeared on screen. “She’s actually two smaller intergalactic rock warriors, both chicks, but in such a deep relationship that they spend all their time fused together.”

            “You’re sure this is a kid’s show, Mikey?”

            “Dude, it’s like the most wholesomest shit on TV these days. Besides, there’s only, like, a handful of intergalactic rock warriors on the planet. It’s only natural they’re gonna shack up eventually!”

            “I think you should change it to Dragon Ball Super.”

            “Why are you so scared of love, bro?” Mike fake-swooned, falling back into the cushions.

            I smiled behind my coffee mug as I took another sip. Despite his reputation for immaturity, Mike had a sense of understanding beyond almost anyone I knew.

 

* * *

 

 

            “ _I’m talkin’ ‘bout you and me,_

_A little time and some privacy,_

_Gettin’ up on that late night creep._

_But tell nobody what we do, when we off on that strange fruit._ ”

            “Hey Donnie!” Leo’s voice echoed across the garage, and hastily I turned my music down. “First of all, I want to say thank you. This is awesome!”

            “Hmm?” I slid out from under the Turtle Taxi, wiping my greasy hands off with a rag before looking up at him. A terracotta-skinned monolith of a man stood before me in a tight navy tank top and khaki shorts, the tight curls of his hair shaved close to his head. I would have been completely lost as to who it was, if not for the narrow sapphires of dark blue squinting a smile toward me.

            “My pleasure, bro.” I smiled back. “You thought of a name?”

            “I was planning on keeping it simple: Hamato Ryo?”

            “It works, but…” I didn’t quite know how to put it in polite terms.

            “Hey, the Miss Universe Japan was half-black a few years ago!” he laughed. “Honestly, when Mikey told me to think of what I wanted to look like, I went for something halfway between Hamato Yoshi and Faraji Ngala. Why, you don’t like how it looks?”

            “No, you look fine.” For some reason, at that, his expression dropped, as though he was expecting more of a compliment.

            “So, anyways, I was thinking of breaking in the new look by going shopping; there’s a Japanese marketplace right on the other side of the Hudson, and I wanted to surprise Master Splinter with something nice. You want to come with?”

            “Is that your way of asking to borrow my car and debit card?” I teased, crossing my arms.

            “Hey, I’m hurt! Come on, I feel like we haven’t hung out in a while.”

            “Yeah, sure.” I grabbed my crutch from beside me and pulled myself up, finding the keys and disguise unit on the table.

            “Alright! Hey, does driver still get to DJ?”

            “Ooh, I just realized, I have a…thing to work on down in the lab.”

            “My taste in music isn’t _that_ bad, Donnie.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “ _Well you can’t get what you want, but you can get me,_

_So let’s set out to sea._

_‘Cause you are my medicine when you’re close to me,_

_When you’re close to me._ ”

Lukewarm music aside, the trip to Edgewater wasn’t horrible; we found ingredients to make a _tetchiri_ dinner with _doriyaki_ cakes for dessert, and a beautiful porcelain tea set for Sensei. Leo was a bit overzealous with speaking Japanese to the total strangers in the store, most of whom eyed him suspiciously and backed away slowly. Compared to Raph’s pedal-to-the-metal philosophy, he handled the BMW like a grandmother, lines of cars honking their horns behind us. Worst of all, though, were his lighthearted small talk and bubbly disposition through the whole venture. Either he didn’t think Raph had told me about their fight the day before, or he was trying to make up for it somehow. Either way, it didn’t sit right with me.

“ _So call in the submarines, ‘round the world we’ll go._

_Does anybody know,_

_If we’re looking out on the day of another dream._

_If you can’t get what you want, then you come with me,_

_Up on Melancholy Hill._ ”

“Seeing all this by daylight really is like living on another planet.” He mused as we pulled out of the Lincoln Tunnel, watching sunbeams cut between the skyscrapers ahead. “I think I can see why Raph’s so keen on spending every waking moment up here with you.”

“Mmm. Yeah, I guess so.” Here we go, I thought to myself.

“There’s not…another reason he’d be spending so much time with you, is there?”

“Um…well, for one, we’re brothers.” I let my tone slide from disinterested to increasingly condescending. “We also have more in common than you’d expect, and he’s surprisingly at home in the lab already.”

“I watched him go into your room last night.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I gulped. “Okay, hang on. Are you jealous because, for the past ninety-nine tiffs you’ve gotten into with Raph, you’ve come to me to decompress, and now after this one, he came to me first? What should I do, put a whiteboard on my door and let you two schedule appointments?”

“Gosh, Donnie, I…” Thank god he bought it. “I guess that is pretty petty of me, huh?”

“Hey, when you guys go at it, you stop thinking clearly. I get it; it’s why I try my best to offer you a little extra clarity, when I’m.”

“I’ve been in need of a lot of that recently.” He sighed. “And of course, it’s right as you get so busy with Ra…with work.”

“Well, I’m here now. What’s on your mind?”

“I know it was a while ago, but do you remember that conversation we had on the porch at the farmhouse?” Oh, no. “A few days after that treasure fiasco with Sid?”

“Uh, gosh…” I feigned confusion. “Seems like every time we’re up there, we’re either hurt or in hiding. All our visits kind of blend together sometimes.”

“It was late at night, all the others were asleep. I don’t even remember how it came up, but, I told you I’d been dealing with some…” The awkward phrasing he had used at the time played back in my mind as he repeated himself. “…Dishonorable urges, and…”

“And I told you that, while I didn’t think they were dishonorable at all, I agreed that trying to act on them might alter the dynamics of our family irreparably.” I pretended to remember. “Why, are they flaring up again?”

“More like life has been one continuous flare.” He laughed nervously. “It’s just hard, Donnie. Really hard. What's worse is that there's no one else to talk to about it. I realize how it could damage our family, but…I feel like living with these feelings forever will damage me. Or that it means I’m already damaged.”

“Leo, look…” He really was hurting; I didn’t want to be curt with him, but I didn’t know how much exactly to let on. “My advice is this: there’s nothing morally objectionable about the way you’re feeling. It’s just our biology, expressing itself in relation to our life’s circumstances. But you’re our leader, bro, and you know there’s a whole lot of terms and conditions that come with the job. If Sensei were to find out you were acting on those feelings, and he didn’t approve, he could very well send you away. If it were any of the other three of us, that wouldn’t be quite as big of a deal, but if it happened to you, well, how would we function?”

“I have to disagree with you on that part, bro. If it were you in my position, and you got sent away, I wouldn’t know how to function anymore either.” His hand slid atop mine on the center console.

“I…I’m flattered, but…”

“Are you just looking at all this from a theoretical standpoint? Or do you, you know…”

The car came to a stop, and I realized I’d been saved by the bell. Clicking the garage remote, the door slid upward, and inside lay Raph, underneath the Shell Cycle. At the sound of our arrival, he bounded to his feet and walked over to my window. Leo’s hand quickly yanked back to the wheel.

“There he is! Been looking for the 3/8 head for the socket wrench, you know what happened to it?”

“Oh yeah, should be under the Taxi. Sorry, didn’t think to put the set away before we left.”

“No sweat, D.” He stooped down, eyeing Leo with smug curiosity. “Who’s your chauffeur today, Jhene Aiko?”

“Don’t wanna hear it, Raph.” He grumbled, stepping out of the car.

“Calm down, Hodgy Beats, I’m just making fun.” He laughed. “Listen, bro, I just wanted to say sorry about our little disagreement yesterday.”

Leo looked like he’d been hit by a truck. “You…what?”

“Yeah, the brainiac here helped me realize we were fighting over something we got no business fighting over. No hard feelings?” He stretched out his hand, and eyeing it skeptically, Leo clasped it with his own.

“Sure, Raph.” Leo grabbed the bags from the backseat, and without another word, he disappeared into the elevator.

“Figure the best way to keep him of our tails is to make up and pretend like everything’s mint, right?”

“Maybe in the short term, it’ll help, but…” I hung my head. “Raph, I think Leo wants me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bops, in order:
> 
> "Do It For Her/Him" by Deedee Magno Hall and Grace Rolek (Pearl and Connie Maheswaran) from Steven Universe, S02E06 "Sworn to the Sword"
> 
> "Strange Fruit" by Elijah Blake
> 
> "On Melancholy Hill" by Gorillaz


	8. Chapter 8

            Not a minute after my little passive-aggressive attempt at a truce with Leo, I was already seeing red again.

            “You think he _what_?” I gritted my teeth. “What did he say to you?”

            “It’s more about what he said a while ago.” Don leaned against the back of the Turtle Taxi, wringing his hands. “After finishing off the Utrom Shredder, we had a conversation one night at the farmhouse. He said he had feelings for…well, someone in the house, but he didn’t say who.”

            “And I’m assuming, since you’re the one he was talking to, that meant you.”

            “I told him the feelings weren’t wrong or immoral, but acting on them could tear the family apart. Especially as the leader, he can’t be playing favorites.”

            “Damn, Donnie!” I laughed. “Didn’t expect you to be that devious, doing a little ‘do as I say, not as I do’. So, what, he asked about it again today?”

            “I didn’t do it intentionally; I believed what I said back then. Really, I believe it even more now. What we’ve got could very well shatter the family, especially since Leo will get hurt no matter what we do. I couldn’t tell him the truth…But he’s going to find it out eventually.”

            “What are we supposed to do, then?” I rubbed at my temples, looking to stem the headache I could feel taking over. “Just call it quits, say we had a good run after 24 hours, and never speak of it again?”

            “You know that’s not an option.” He sighed. “I’ll think of something…just give me time.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “That’s it, I’m stumped.” Don looked up from his tablet. We were inside his simulation, where lined up on a row of workbenches, several dozen different robotic hands were attached to disembodied forearms, and not one of them was moving. “There’s just no good medium for endocannabinoid delivery that doesn’t completely outweigh the neuroprotective effects. Water and saline offer no solubility, propylene glycol isn’t nearly viscous enough to flow at the right pressure in the nanotubes, and ethanol just straight up kills the neurons.” He pressed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “The only other solvent I can think of is butane, but that would blow the damn thing up as soon as the user goes to lift a finger.”

            “Hang on, Don.” I interjected. As usual, a lot of his science talk went in one ear and out the other, but something in that tirade stuck with me. “You said endocannabinoid? That’s like the human body’s homemade version of the chemicals in pot, right?”

            “Correct.”

            “And when the four of us crashed that Purple Dragon gig where they were selling vape pens full of hash oil, you said they had the stuff dissolved in propylene glycol.”

            “Well, yes, but like I said, it’s not nearly…”

            “Stay with me, here. When the goons heard us snooping around in their lab, we knocked over a big drum of something sticky, or viscous, I guess, and they fell on their asses as soon as they walked in the door. You told me after that the stuff was mixed with the propylene glycol to give it the right consistency. Now, I still remember the label on that drum: it read…”

            “Glycerol.” He looked awestruck, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the brief glimpse of pride I felt was what Don felt like every time he made some super smart discovery. “Raph, that’s…” Frantically typing on his tablet, another row of prosthetics appeared before us, and in a second, the middle two were twitching their fingers, and Don’s face lit up like it was Christmas.

            “Pretty good, huh?” I planted my arms at my hips. “Not long before they’re gonna have to start calling me Dr. Fiero!”

            “April is seriously going to flip when she hears we got it to work! A plug-and-play prosthetic that works within hours of installation, and all it took was glycerol!” He pulled the stylus out, and drew our exit door back to his office. As had become our little tradition, every scientific breakthrough called for another round of drinks, so this time, I pulled out a tawny bottle of scotch. With a splash, a clink, and a gulp, we celebrated yet another victory, and followed it up with a kiss.

            It had been a long weekend. I had to avoid Leo to stem my desire to bash his head in, and had to keep my distance from Don to keep suspicions low. Finally, back at the lab, we were free from all the bullshit that kept getting in the way.

            “Hey.” He smiled at me warmly, setting his glass down. “There’s something I want to show you.”

            He hobbled over to the paintings along the wall, carefully sliding the one of his bo staff up to reveal a white rectangle of plastic. I recognized it as one of the receivers for the building’s keycards; he flashed his to it, and to the side of the entry door, the wooden wall began to creak and split in two. He walked into the space, and I followed, finding a dark, narrow stairwell leading up to a door. As he opened it, daylight poured in. At the top, we stood in what looked like a well-appointed downtown loft: sparkling new kitchen, two roomy leather couches around huge flat-screen TV, and a balcony that looked out onto the city.

            “What’s all this for?” I asked.

            “This was my Plan B.” He explained, lowering himself onto the couch and gesturing for me to do the same. “When Karai told me I could use the whole floor of the building for whatever I wanted, this was the first part I designed. Having a place of my own meant I could finally tell you how I felt; that way, if you rejected me, I’d have the means to start fresh and move on.”

            “Don, that’s crazy talk.” I soothed, cupping his cheek in my hand. “You know I’d never do that to you.”

            “Couldn’t be sure, though. You have no idea how many times I’d played it out in my head, considering every possible outcome. Hell, it's the real reason I've been hiding how much money I'm making from the family; I wouldn't want them keeping me around and putting up with me just for access to it. All that, just to have you beat me to the punch.” His hand came to rest on mine. “But now, this place is for _our_ Plan C.”

            “Which is…”

            “We’re going to tell Master Splinter.”

            “We’re… _what_?” If still had my glass in hand, I’d have spat the liquor out all over his face. “Don, you can’t be serious! He’s the one we gotta hide this from the most!”

            “If Leo doesn’t feel like he can talk to me anymore, chances are he’ll muster up the courage to talk to Sensei eventually, especially if he finds any proof about us. Now, I’m just as skeptical as you are about how Splinter will handle it. But you have to admit that it would sound better coming from us, asking for permission, than to have Leo get to him first, and have us ask for forgiveness.”

            “Ugh, Don…” I rolled back onto the couch, throwing my hand up toward the ceiling. “Why does everything you say have to make such good sense?”

            “So, you’re on board?”

            “Still don’t wanna think about how that conversation’s gonna go down. But I trust you, D.”

            “Best case scenario, we’re together, and our family is intact. Worst case scenario, we’re together, and our new home is this apartment.” He crawled over me, getting in close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck. “And its king-size bed.”

            “Show me.” I whispered, and he pointed to the door across the room. Locking my lips onto his, I scooped him up in my arms and made a beeline towards whatever lay beyond that doorway.

            The room itself wasn’t anything too special: thick curtains blocking out the light, speakers on the walls, a lamp on the nightstand, and, of course, our new playground, topped with smooth satiny sheets. I laid Don out and pounced onto him like a hungry lion, nipping and sucking right at the base of his neck where I knew it’d drive him mental. With no worries about volume here in our own space, I was rewarded with a needy moan when I found it. He grabbed a remote from the nightstand, and in a moment, rumbling bass began to vibrate the ground beneath us as the speakers came to life with a slow beat.

            “Reach under the bed.” He whispered, and I was in no position to argue. By the headboard, I found a black strap with a cuff on the end, and eyed it curiously, knowing exactly what it was for.

            “You sure about this?” I asked, bending to the other side to find its twin. A silent nod was all I needed, and in a moment, his wrists were bound to the bedframe, then his ankles. Appreciating the scene laid out under me, I dove right back in, one hand gliding to stroke at his tail, the other, gripping the back of his neck with firm but gentle pressure.

            “ _I won’t make you pull out, getting it all tonight,_

_I just wanna go down in history how you like,_

_As the one who makes you comfortable,_

_‘Cause your lips, they got me feeling very vulnerable.”_

I traced a line straight between his pecs with my tongue, feeling him gasp and quiver beneath my touch. In the blink of an eye, I saw what I wanted: his cock had dropped down from its hiding place, bobbing in the air with each heartbeat. It was mine, to do with as I pleased, and I slid backward until I was kneeling at the foot of the bed, set to do exactly what I’d been dreaming of all weekend.

            With a long lick from base to tip, I savored his sweet, salty tang on my tongue as his arms tensed against their bonds. Waves of heat emanated onto my face, and I wrapped my lips around his head, giving it a gentle suck. Unashamed, he cried out, and I took it as a cue to go in deeper, letting my tongue dance against his sensitive underside as it plunged further and further down my throat. Up and down I bobbed, learning exactly how to maneuver in response to his groans and churrs, until his hips began to pump in time with my motions. Not wanting our fun to end as quickly as the last time, I popped off, giving his tip another quick lick as I looked up at him with devious lust.

            “ _Don’t you, baby, pull out, we’re right where we’re supposed to be,_

_I just wanna go down, you know I’m what you want, completely,_

_And I just wanna be clear, we’re doing right, we’re doing what works,_

_The way that you speak to me frequently gives me a rise._ ”

            “Nightstand.” He moaned.

            “Full of surprises today, ain’t we?” I teased, and climbed back over him to open the drawer next to the bed. A little brown bottle labeled “Gun Oil” stared back at me, and I knew exactly what it meant. Popping the cap, I doused my fingers in a generous coating, and reached down to the underside of his tail, where I traced circles around the plush skin of his hole until I could feel the ring of muscle start to lose its tension. Sensing he was ready, I slowly nestled the tip of a finger inside, twisting back and forth to ease its passage. He inhaled sharply.

            “You okay?” I murmured.

            “Mmhmm.” He nodded, lip bit and eyebrows knit. “Another.”

            “You’re the boss, boss.” I grinned, dabbing the lube on my other finger and pumping the two inside. Scissoring them to spread the soft flesh around them, I grazed a small, firm spot that made his cock jump and his limbs thrash against their restraints. Having the power to make him react that way sent a rush of blood to my head, and another heading below the belt. Gripping his shaft with my free hand, I could feel every muscle in his being start to tense as I let my slippery thumb tease the bottom of his head.

            “Please…” he groaned. “Need it…”

            “Not sure I know what you’re talkin’ about.” I purred, taking both hands away and letting my own swelling rod drop down into the open. “Tell me what you need.”

            “I need you, Raph!” It came out as a choked sob. I slicked my hand with a hearty puddle of lube, and slathered my cock in it until it shined like polished green steel.

            “What do you want me to do, Don?”

            “Take me, please!” His eyes screamed with some kind of tortured lust, and my patience for playing with him ran out in an instant.

            “That can be arranged.” Propping myself up on my elbows, I aimed my bulbous head right at his opening, and buried my face in the crook of his neck as I thrust forward at a painstakingly slow pace. “You don’t know how long nights I’ve stayed up, thinkin’ of this moment, just to get off…”

            “Me too…” he winced. “In the shower…used to use…my fingers, pretend it was you.”

            “Oh god…” I groaned, about halfway inside, and basking in the glowing heat of his love tunnel. “Such a lil’ freak!” I picked myself back up as I sunk into the hilt, kissing him deeply and letting myself just hang there in the moment until I had to breathe. “You ain’t gotta pretend no more.”

            I pulled my hips back until just the lip of my head stayed in, and drove back in, repeating and picking up the pace until I’d got up to a steady rhythm. Adjusting my angle to brush against that bundle of nerves inside him, I could hear his breath catch in his throat and a pained whine escape his mouth.

            “So good…” he cried out, and the bedframe creaked as he tensed against all the straps at once. The muscles of his hole contracted and pulsed around my cock as his own began to leak a fountain of cum, short spurts erupting with each of my thrusts. Every fiber of his body seemed to shudder, the vibrations and animal noises gurgling from his mouth pushing me over the edge. My rapid pace slowed to a series of long thrusts as I pumped him full of spunk, a trickle of the hot white juice leaking out around my cock and onto the crimson sheets under us. Once I finally felt I was totally drained, I lowered myself onto him and reached up to free his wrists from their binds. He immediately grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled me in to a kiss so deep, I could scarcely breathe.

            “Why don’t we just skip all the bullshit and move in here today?” I panted, getting a giggle out of my spent bedmate.

            “They’d come looking for us, you know.”

            “Casey can keep ‘em out; ain’t that what you pay him for?”

            We laid there for a good long while, just talking and joking, basking in the afterglow, until talk of a shower, lunch, and another round eventually persuaded us to come back to the world of the living. As I peeled myself off him to hit the shower, his hand stretched out to grab mine, and swung me back toward him for one more kiss.

            “I love you, Raph.” His face had an expression of pure bliss, and the words sounded so natural.

            “I love you too, Donnie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> La bop del dia: "Too Deep" by DVSN. Makes me wish I'd saved my virginity til 2016 so I could lose it specifically to that song, but you live and you learn amirite?
> 
> If I'm remembering correctly, this is the first gay sex scene I've ever written, so PLEASE don't judge me too harshly lmao, it's one of those things that's a lot easier done than said!


	9. Chapter 9

            Thursday, Raph and I had decided, would be the day we put our plan into action. It was best to do it sooner, rather than later, like ripping off a bandage. Knowing what was at stake, I planned a day that would both potentially serve to put Master Splinter in a good mood before we sought to speak with him, and provide us with what very well might be our last day together as an intact family. The keystone of the whole plan was my completion of a fifth disguise unit, which, after some gentle persuasion, Sensei agreed to try on that morning. His philosophy on choosing a form was like Leo’s or my own: he presented as a sage-looking Japanese man, like perhaps a shorter Hamato Yoshi had he survived to be an octogenarian, with long hair and a goatee the same shade as his usual silver fur. Content in his appearance, the four of us successfully convinced him to cancel training for the day and come explore the city with us on foot (or, in my case, on one foot, with the other thankfully on Leo’s scooter.)

            Despite having lived in Manhattan for his entire post-mutation life, and inside Central Park itself for the last few years, there was so much within walking distance of the park that neither Splinter nor the rest of had ever explored. We started our adventure with a trip to the Buddhist temple on 63rd Street, the first any of us had entered outside of Japan. For lunch, despite Leo’s insistence upon finding a place with good sashimi, Splinter preferred the idea of trying something new. Remembering the scene in the credits of the Avengers movie where the heroes went out for shawarma, Mikey found us a place just off Park Avenue where the food lived up to its high reviews. Venturing a bit further east to Yorkville, we found a Japanese antique shop that carried old philosophy books and robes in Splinter’s size (he seemed unconcerned that they were children’s robes, and grateful nonetheless.)

By late afternoon, we found ourselves in the North Meadow back in Central Park, my three brothers playing Frisbee, and Sensei and I reading our secondhand books in the shade of a maple tree. Watching the others shout, laugh, and show off their agility and prowess in broad daylight was heartwarming, and at times I even forgot why I had planned such a day. The prospect of being shunned from the family had been a possibility in my mind for so long, that I often tried to convince myself it would be easy to endure. A day like this only further proved me wrong. I cared about all my brothers, and especially for my father; the months where his fractured essence had been lost throughout cyberspace, and I was unsure if I’d ever see him again, was possibly the most difficult time of my life. Nonetheless, there’s no putting a genie back in a bottle, and I understood the value of what I might have to sacrifice to be with Raph.

“My son.” Splinter said, peering up from his copy of the _Kana Shobogenzo_. “I cannot thank you enough for planning this lovely day. It was not too many years ago that I was fully rat, and now, I have enjoyed the streets of this city as though I am fully human.”

“It was my pleasure, Father.” I smiled back. “Seeing you happy makes me happy.”

“I have often believed that it is your sense of empathy, even more than your intelligence, that serves as your greatest strength. You work to improve the health and lives of others, and you expend great effort to keep your family safe and happy, often with little thanks or reward.” He stroked at his wispy goatee. “And yet, I wonder of you, as I often do for all my sons: do you feel you are truly happy?”

This was where the day began to diverge from my plan. Raph and I had agreed we would talk to Master Splinter once the day was done, probably after his soap operas were over, and most importantly, that we would speak with him together.

“That’s…a difficult question, Sensei. I mean, life could always be better, right?”

“Indeed. There are certain unique aspects of our lives that predispose us toward unique types of suffering.” Dear lord, he really was taking the conversation there, of his own accord!

“Every creature has its own cross to bear, I guess.”

“A very wise observation. Likewise, every creature has its own way of coping with the weight of that cross.”

“Evolutionary biology, right there.” I hoped diverting him would work. After a long pause, that proved not to be the case.

“Donatello, one of your brothers confided a secret in me yesterday, and while respecting his wish to keep the matter private, I am curious as to your perspective on it.” Damn it. Damn it! Leo had beaten us to the punch.

“Of course; this stays between you and me.”

“He expressed a long-standing desire to be with one of his brothers, in a way which is, how shall I put this…more than brotherly.”

“I see…” How was I supposed to know how much he knew? “I think, from a biological perspective, it’s not unheard of. I mean, male lions of the same pride are typically at least half-brothers, and they mate with each other surprisingly often in the wild.”

“And yet, as you can see right before us, our family is quite the opposite of a pack of wild animals.”

“I…” I sighed. Of course, he’d never let it rest at a vague half-answer. “I could foresee acting on those desires as detrimental to the fabric of the team. Or, rather, the family. But suppressing that desire very well could be detrimental to that person’s well-being.”

“Well spoken, my son.” I turned to him, and noticed his eyes were transfixed on Raphael. “Have you ever noticed that your noses are not quite as sensitive as my own?”

“Excuse me?” That was an off-putting segue if I had ever heard one. “Well, it makes sense; a reptile’s sensory organs aren’t quite as refined as a mammal’s, mutated or otherwise.”

“For years, you two have emitted a unique scent when in each other’s presence. Even now, with you watching him from a distance, I can detect it.”

“Father, I…” This was it. He knew, and that meant either his power of scent truly was beyond reproach, or Leo had solved the puzzle and told him. “I’m sorry to have kept it a secret for so long. But I’m not sorry for acting on it, not at all.”

“It is reasonable, that you would be ashamed to come to me.” He let out a long exhale. “Had it only been one of you experiencing these feelings, I would be more apt to consider it an aberration. But now that I know of three, with a strong likelihood of the fourth as well, I see there is much more thought to be put into this matter before I can pass judgement.”

“I understand, Father.” So much for getting it over with quickly, like ripping off a bandage.

“In the meantime, I must request something of you. While your deceit is indeed reasonable, it would be best for it not to continue while I am still contemplating its nature.”

“That’s…something I can live with, I suppose.”

“Very good. In the meantime, Leonardo will be assisting you with your work.”

At that, my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

“Master Splinter, I hardly think that’s a helpful alternative! I mean…”

“Please do not question my decision, Donatello. I am trying my best to be compassionate, but I am still your father, and there is no room for argument with my decision. I believe that you might be able to help him find...”

“Do you even realize what you’re doing? Leo’s just going to…”

“I said…” he boomed, taking a tone he hadn’t used with me in ages. “…there is no room for argument.”

Of every scenario I could have imagined, this not one of them; it was far more twisted. Either Leo hadn’t told him _who_ his feelings were for, or for whatever reason, he was attempting to play matchmaker and give his implicit approval to this pairing, not the one of Raph and I. Words could scarcely express the disgust, the betrayal, the sheer absurdity of it all. Unable to process it any further, I got up, grabbed Leo’s scooter, and pushed off down the trail as quickly as I could, toward the one place I could truly be safe.

 

* * *

 

 

“ _The world's a fuckin' mess, it's gone to shit,_

_And I am every bit a part of it, I may have started it._

_I try to find a brighter sight, an elevated, higher sight,_

_It's out of sight, out of mind._ ”

I fully intended to go back home at some point that night, but didn’t know what I would say or do when I did. The idea of calling Raph to keep me company crossed my mind more than once, but I knew exactly how it would play out: he would make me feel better, we would make love, and everything would seem alright. Furthermore, his leaving would only aggravate Master Splinter even more, surely earning us his full disapproval and sealing our fate.

Obviously, it was tempting to be with him, but I didn’t want relief right now, I wanted answers. So, there I sat on the balcony of my secret loft, bottle of _shochu_ in hand, with the door wide open so I could hear the drone of the speakers as I looked over the lights of the city. What could Leo have said that would make Master Splinter react in such a way? How could he have convinced our father that he deserved me more than Raph did? Nothing made sense; it was as though there was some variable in the equation that I couldn’t even begin to fathom. To someone who usually has all the answers, such an enigma is sheer torture.

“ _Oblivion, wish I would go back, I could go back to nothing_

_Oblivion, wish I would go back, i could go back to no one._

_There's no lovin' without losin', there's no livin' without bruisin',_

_There's no limit, no delusion, sweet oblivion._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bop = "Oblivion" by Jhene Aiko
> 
> Obligatory apology for the short chapter! 
> 
> If you're doubting how this is gonna play out or thinking I'm crazy rn, just please please please hold your faith until you can get to the plot twist! Whole hood bout to go brazy with the next couple chapters, trust!


	10. Chapter 10

            When I first noticed Don had gone missing, I didn’t think anything of it; he’d just been with Master Splinter a moment ago, and I told myself he might have gone home if his leg had been bothering him or something. It wasn’t until we got back to the lair, and I saw that he wasn’t there, that I started to worry. After stripping out of our disguises, I took a look around the garage, and his room, and not seeing anything only sent me into more of a panic.

            “You getting cold feet, D?” I texted him. “When you wanna do this thing?” When a half-hour went by with no response, the screen in my hand appeared to tremble, and I caught myself taking increasingly fast breaths. This wasn’t like him, not at all. There was no way I’d be able to handle having the ‘big talk’ with Splinter on my own, and more importantly, I was concerned for his well-being.

            “Hey Master Splinter!” I called out from the stairs, hoping he would hear me in his chamber. “You know where Donnie went?”

            “I do not, my son.” He slid the paper door open, sticking his head out. “However, I would like to speak with you.” Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. I should have kept my stupid mouth shut!

            “What’s up, pops?” I feigned a light-hearted smile, mirroring him as he sat cross-legged on the floor.

            “I believe Donatello is out clearing his head, as he did not react well to the conversation we were having earlier.” Damnit, was he trying to get us separately on purpose? “In the same vein as when you retreat to be alone, and I hope he will return soon.”

            “You sure we’re talking about the same Don here? I can’t remember that last time he’s been up top by himself, let alone done it with one good leg.”

            “Our discussion was not one we normally have, so it does not surprise me that he would respond abnormally.”

            “So…what were you guys talking about?”

            “Raphael, in two days, I have spoken with two of your brothers about hidden desires that have persisted in their hearts for a very long time. And of those two, Donatello confirmed to me that he had acted on these desires with you.”

            “Uh…” How am I supposed to respond to that? See, this is why I wanted Don to do the talking. “Okay? So, I’m assuming the other one…”

            “…Requested to divulge himself to the rest of you when he is ready.” He finished my sentence. “Being the only one to come to me voluntarily, and seeking guidance rather than approval, I granted him that right.”

            “Fuckin’ brown-noser…” I grumbled under my breath. “So, yeah, I’ll own up to it, I guess. Don and I are in love. Is there a problem with that?”

            “Whether or not there is a problem, I must meditate on the subject to determine. It is a matter that I must think on deeply. However, so far, you are the only one who has referred to your desires with the term ‘love’.” He stroked at his beard. “This does sooth my mind a great deal. Is it only an innate, physical urge that you are acting upon, or is it truly love?”

            “Ah, shit, Sensei…” I broke away from his gaze. “You got the wrong turtle here if you’re trying to talk about feelings. I dunno…I guess it started as wanting to do…physical stuff, yeah? But there’s more to it than just that, a lot more. The way I feel about him…it’s like, Don could beat me up, knock me out, trash my room, and crash my bike, and I’d still wanna spend every second of every day with him. What do you call that?”

            “Unconditional love.” He smiled warmly. “I have certainly misjudged what is taking place.”

            “Why, how did Leo say he felt about Don?”

            “What makes you say…” He raised an eyebrow at me, before his expression fell to one of terror. “Oh, no.”

            “What, what’s wrong?”

            “I doubt Donatello will be returning home as quickly as I had expected.”

 

* * *

 

 

            Miscommunication of the fucking century, that’s what I’d call it. Splinter tells Don that, as punishment for sneaking around with me, he wants Leo to take my place in the lab, at least until he sorts out all the morals and stuff of what we’d been doing. Don, assuming Leo had told Splinter he was into him, thinks that means he’d rather those two be together than the two of us. Turns out, it was Mike who had talked to Splinter first; about who or what, that was shit to deal with another time. Right now, I needed to find Don; I had no idea how he’d react in that situation, but I know if I were in his shoes, I’d either be halfway to California by now, or jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge. For him, I could only think of one place he’d go.

            “Case.” I barked into the phone. “You still at work?”

            “Nah, bro, I always leave when Ape gets out on Thursdays. Why, what’s up?”

            “You didn’t see Don when you were there, did you?”

            “Don’t think so; not too much happening up in his office, and the camera’s turned off half the time.”

            “There any cameras in his loft?” If there were, he’d turned them off without a doubt, but it was worth a shot.

            “Loft? What are you talking about?”

            “The floor above Don’s; you don’t have any cameras up there?”

            “Raph, Don’s office is the top floor. Only thing above that is the helipad. You sure we work in the same building?”

            “Damnit.” A place of his own, he called it. He’d split the floor into a workplace, and a secret place where he could really be alone if he needed to. “You still got guys there, right? Anyone who would be able to get into Don’s floor?”

            “Yeah, we got one master keycard; I keep it during the day, and pass it off to Sid for the night shift. Raph, what’s this all for? Is Donnie okay?”

            “Might be. Call Sid, tell him to get up there and find Don. If he ain’t in the office, have him look behind the painting of the bo staff. And call me back ASAP, got it?”

            “You got it, bud, Casey Jones is on the…” I hung up, bounded out of Splinter’s room, and headed straight toward the elevator. As I pressed the button, Splinter and both my brothers ran toward me.

            “What happened?” Leo asked, concern all across his face. “Where’s Donnie?”

            “That’s what I gotta find out. Now stay outta my way; you helped make this mess, now I’m gonna be the one to clean it up.”

            “He’s our brother too!” Mikey stomped his feet.

“How did I…” Leo started.

            “You know what you did!” I ground my teeth together. “We can deal with that later, but right now no one’s got any idea what Don’s doing, and…” Surprisingly quickly, my phone rang. “Any luck?”

            “Bad news, Raph. Sid couldn’t even get the elevator to go up to his floor. Donnie’s got higher privileges in the system than even I do, so it looks like if he’s up there, he’s basically barricaded in until he decided to come out.”

            “You don’t have stairs?”

            “For the top ten floors, no way. Trust me, bro, that place is locked up tight.”

            “Fuck!” I screamed, barely resisting the urge to whip my phone into a wall. There was only one other person who would know how to get into that loft, or even know it existed: the one who built it. “Fine, Leo, you wanna help? Call up Karai for me.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “Donatello designed his apartment to be completely inaccessible from anywhere but his office.” Karai shouted over the headset, fighting out the roar of the helicopter blades. “However, the helipad has an overhang large enough that you should be able to maneuver underneath and drop onto his balcony.”

            “No problem.” I looked out the side of our ride, eyes focused on the ever-approaching white spire in the distance. “Thanks for this.”

            “Why would he design himself such a place?” Splinter wondered.

            “Exactly for this situation, Sensei!” I screamed into my mic, thinking how to phrase it without letting Karai in on the topic. “He figured you might disapprove, or tell him something he didn’t wanna hear. Hell, he made it in case _I_ told him something he didn’t wanna hear, too! You know, a backup plan, a place to run back to with his tail between his legs in case we didn’t want him around!”

            “That’s Donnie.” Leo sighed. “Considering all his options.”

            Once we were over the tower, Karai signaled to the pilot to take us down, and the hooded figure complied. Bringing us to a steady hover over the landing pad, my brothers, Sensei, and I threw our headsets off and jumped out onto the tarmac. We ran to the edge of the pad, and scaled down the metal lattice until our feet were about a one-floor drop above the balcony.

            “You guys stay out here.” I commanded as we landed. “Don’t think he’s in the mood to see any of you right now.”

            The door to the inside had been left wide open, but all the lights were off. Peering inside and taking a tentative step onto the hardwood, I could make out a soft melody from the bedroom.

            “ _In that sunshine, where I gave myself to you,_

_Because I wanted to, because I wanted to._

_For the first time, I’m in sense of what to do,_

_Because my feeling into you, you know my feeling into you._ ”

            Curled into a ball on the mattress, with a near-empty liquor bottle on the floor beside his outstretched hand, lay Don, his clothes and shreds of his plastic disguise littered around the room.

            “Wake up, bro.” I shook his shoulders vigorously. “Gotta get you out of here.”

            “Knew you’d come.” He slurred, eyes barely open. “But you…you gotta go back.”

            “Ain’t leaving without you, Don.” I tried to scoop him into my arms, but he sloppily planted a hand on my chest and shoved me back.

            “You guys can still be happy…” he hiccupped. “Be a team…without me…complicating things. ‘Sides, Splinter won’t let us…be together, anyways.”

            “None of that shit matters if I don’t got you, genius. Now come on.” I pushed his arm aside, and carried him like a baby. “Ain’t just gonna stand here and watch you Jimi Hendrix yourself.”

            “ _Now my body aches, but I’m calling out to you,_

_I want our love to pursue, I want our love to pursue._

_And as the panel breaks, it’s your light that I let through,_

_I’ve seen the wildest of views, I’ve seen the wildest of views._ ”

As I left the room and approached the balcony, the others looked on with wide, worried eyes.

            “Is he…” Mike started.

            “Drunk off his ass, but alive, and mostly conscious. Now, come on, give me a boost.” Mike and Leo knelt down, and with a running start, I leapt onto their shells right as they bounced up, clutching the outer edge of the helipad with one hand as the other kept Don pressed tight to me. Swinging a leg up, I heaved both our weights over the edge, making sure he was slumped at a safe distance before pulling myself up and picking him back up.

            “Why did you shut the engine off, you fool?” I heard Karai shout as my brothers and father reappeared behind me. “We are leaving!”

            “Because getting the lot of you in one place is too good of an opportunity to pass up.” The man in a dark hoodie roared back maniacally. Something about his silhouette looked eerily familiar, and his voice definitely imparted some déjà vu. “The usurper who kept me imprisoned, and the abominations who banished me from the physical realm…” He pulled his hood back, revealing a bald, golden head with inhuman features, which was promptly engulfed in a burst of flame. The Fire Mystic! “…And thought they’d seen the last of me!”

            Before we even had time to retort, the air around us seemed to crackle with energy, and the mystic drew it in toward himself with a rush of wind. The flames radiating from his head burned his clothes to a crisp, and didn’t stop growing there; the last thing I saw was the explosive force of his blast pushing the helicopter off the edge of the roof behind him. After that, everything became fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUN, bitches!!!i!i!i!iii
> 
> Today's bop brought to you by the letter B, for "Barcelona" by Henry Green
> 
> And here y'all probably thought I was gonna let the fuckin explosion from the first chapter just get forgot? Shame! No sleepin on me cuhhh
> 
> Also, as you could probably predict, the next chapter is gonna be from Raph's perspective again. Just figured I'd let you know in case you think I messed with the rhythm on accident, nuh-uh baby I gots it!
> 
> Ain't done yet tho so put them dicks away and buckle up, buckeroo!


	11. Chapter 11

            Anyone who could see us from the nearby skyscrapers must have thought the traveling circus was in town. Hanging from the edge of the helipad was Leo, and grabbing his hand was Mikey; I had one hand wrapped around Mike’s ankle, and the other cradling Don’s dead weight against my chest. Karai held on to one of my legs, and Splinter the other. I felt like I was on one of those medieval torture racks, about to get my shell split clean in half. Noticing we were directly over Don’s balcony again, Karai and Splinter released their holds, to my great relief, and I released mine to thud to the ground below right after they did. The first thing I did was lay Don out and assess the damage the blast had done.

            Things weren’t pretty. His face and neck were mostly unscathed, but one leg had a patched of blackened skin reaching from his shoulder to well past his elbow, and the arm on the same side had several chips of what looked to be metal from the helicopter embedded deeply inside. The cast on his other leg had been completely shattered off. Blood was oozing out from the shrapnel on his arm, leaving little splatters on the cement of the balcony. On top of it all, he was totally knocked out. Normally, if anyone ever ended up this injured, Don was the only one who’d know how to patch them up. But now, all that remained was…

            “What do we do?” Leo cried out as he landed beside me.

            “Don’t know.” I gingerly scooped him back up, making sure not to touch any of his wounds unnecessarily. “But I think something here does.”

            “Find help for Donatello, my sons!” Splinter cried out, creaking down into the lotus position on the cement. “I will handle the fire demon the way you four handled his master.” He pressed his fists together, and after a moment of focus, his avatar appeared overhead in a burst of light: an enormous silver dragon, with wings of bloody scarlet and eyes glowing pure white. In a flash, the creature took off toward the roof and out of view, and the air began to echo with animal shrieks and thunderous booms.

            I kicked the door halfway off its hinges, and navigated the stairs as best I could with a limp body in tow. The office below was totally dark, other than the lights of billboards and neon pouring in from the neighboring buildings. Luckily, we were headed somewhere much more well-lit.

            “Someone get the keycard in the pants on the bedroom floor!” I hollered up the stairs, and in a flash, Mike placed it in my free hand.

            “Dude, we need a doctor! I’ll call Leatherhead, or…”

            “Nope.” I barked. “No time. I got this.” I laid Don out on his desk, and pressed the keycard to the box by the door. As it slid open, I pushed the desk forward, the floor groaning from the friction as it moved. Once we crossed the threshold into the pearly white chamber, I left the desk and sprinted to the podium, grabbing the tablet and stylus and touching them together. What looked like a million menus appeared onscreen as the room’s lights went black. I had no idea where to start what I was thinking of…but Don had mentioned the computers here all ran Fugitoid OS, just like our phones, right? That meant…

            “Hey Professor!” I called out, and in a heartbeat, the whirring metal body of Professor Honeycutt appeared beside me. Don came up with the idea after getting sick of helping us figure out each and every function when we got our new phones. The operating system’s namesake was a personal assistant for those of us who didn’t have a clue how to use the things.

            “How may I help you, Raphael?” he asked.

            “Let’s make this place an operating room.”

            “Certainly.” He obliged, and the dark cavernous room turned to an empty white chamber reeking of disinfectant. The hefty wooden desk was now a cold steel operating table, lined with paper.

            “Can you tell me what’s wrong with Donnie?”

            “Certainly.” A green beam seemed to scan Don from head to toe. “His heart rate and breathing rate are significantly depressed, though not dangerously so. He is losing blood at a rate of 250 milliliters per hour. Ordinarily, this would not pose an issue, though his blood alcohol content is 0.308, which will impact his clotting ability. His left arm bears a full-thickness third-degree burn, and his left leg contains a total of seven detectable fragments of aluminum alloy, including one partially transecting the tibial nerve. His right leg is healing as expected for thirteen days post-Achilles tendon repair. He may have a concussion, though the probability is uncertain.”

            “Jesus.” I muttered to myself. “Professor, is he gonna be okay?”

            “In his current condition, Donatello has a 67.4% chance of survival.”

            “Better than nothing. Okay, Professor, what do I need to fix him up?”

            “As far as tools, you will require forceps, a suturing needle, hypodermic needles, an irrigation unit, surgical tape, and tubing. As far as the rest, you will require an ethanol disinfectant, saline solution, polyglycolic acid suture thread, tilapia grafts, epinephrine, and thrombin. Additionally, there are several different media suspected to assist in the healing of his transected tibial nerve, though none are currently approved by the FDA for such purposes.”

            “Can you get those in here?”

            “I can synthesize the tools needed, but anything that will have to remain in his body, such as the suture thread, thrombin, and transfused blood, will have to come from an actual source.”

            “Is that stuff in the building?”

            “Prepared tilapia grafts and several varieties of suture thread are available in the animal testing facilities on floor twenty-six. Epinephrine and thrombin is available in the reagent stockroom on floor thirty-one. And blood from yourself, Leonardo, or Michelangelo is of the proper type to transfuse.”

            “The twenty-sixth floor belongs to my husband’s staff.” Karai interjected from behind me. “I have a keycard that should allow me access to it.” Like a cheetah, she took off into the office and out of view.

            “Good. Mike, take Don’s card and go to the thirty-first. There’s four things I need: epinephrine, thrombin, anandamide, and glycerol. Can you remember that?”

            “A-Pin-Efron, rhombus, banana sides, and Wichita…”

            “I’ll go with him.” Leo took the keycard from my hand, and the two of them went off.

            “Okay Professor.” I took in a deep breath. Don had stitched me up and pulled gunk out of my wounds enough times that I ought to remember the gist of how it’s done. With the world’s fastest computer at my side, it was the next best thing to having Don operate on himself. “Let’s get those tools ready.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “That’s six aluminum fragments successfully extracted.” Honeycutt’s voice confirmed, as I let the bloodstained metal chip clang into the tray beneath Don’s leg. “This wound is superficial enough to not require any sutures.”

            “One to go.” I murmured, carefully wiping the sweat from my brow while trying not to dislodge the needle from my arm. A clear tube carried my blood straight into Don’s forearm, and the last thing I needed was for it to pop out of me and spray everywhere. “This one’s the ugly one, right?”

            “Yes, Raphael. It has transected 70% of Donatello’s tibial nerve, and pierced the exterior of the posterior tibial vein.”

            “It pierced a vein? You didn’t tell me that before!”

            “You brushed your left elbow against the shrapnel while removing the second fragment, increasing its insertion depth by 0.6 millimeters.”

            “Dammit, Professor, I need you to tell me this shit! Okay, what do I gotta do to get this one out without bleeding us both dry?”

            “You will need to apply the thrombin to the exterior of the artery, to assist in creating a clot. Once clotted, the area must be irrigated with saline, and disinfected with ethanol. Then, a total of eleven sutures will be needed to close the wound”

            “Ethanol will kill the nerve, Prof, even I know that!”

            “I highly advise not attempting this experimental treatment with endocannabinoids, Raphael. It has never been examined in a clinical environment, and besides, it was intended to be explored in prosthetics, not in intact limbs.”

            “What’s the prognosis if we let the nerve stay like it is?”

            “At this level of injury, Donatello will likely have no motor control over his toes or ankle, nor any sensation in his heel. There is a 36.4% chance that motor control and sensation improve significantly within six months, and a 54.9% chance that they improve significantly within twelve months.”

            “That’s a tossup, dude! I’m going through with it. Professor, get me some glassware.” A test tube and plastic pipette appeared on the table, right next to the bottles of medicine the others had found downstairs. “What’s the ratio we figured out works best the other day?”

            “One milliliter of anandamide solution to fifty milliliters of glycerol.” I carefully eyed the pipette as I dipped it into one bottle, watching for the bubble of liquid to exactly hit the one-mark on the tube. When it did, I pulled it out, and squirted it into the bottle next to it, then capped it and shook it, before picking the needle and thread back up from their tray. Taking a moment to center myself, I picked the forceps back up in my other hand, and placed the tips on the last bit of glinting metal sticking out of the emerald skin.

            “This one’s gonna be a squirter, ain't it?”

            “At Donatello’s current venous pressure, yes, you should expect a bit of spray.”

            Holding my breath, I yanked the chip out in as straight of a line as I could, and true to expectation, a gush of blood damn near hit me in the eyes. I dropped the metal and forceps into their tray, and reached for the syringe of thrombin.

            “Hey, maybe I could…” Leo offered from over my shoulder.

            “How many times do I gotta tell you, Fearless? I got this!” I barked back, sliding the needle into the wound and carefully pressing the base down, watching for the blood to start flowing slower. "You take care of yourself and the others; I'll take care of Don."

            “The rest of us are just scraped up, nothing serious. And you only have so many hands, Raphael. We can do this together.”

            “Will you _please_ shut the fuck up!” I begged. “I know you’d love to share the glory when he wakes up, just like you’d love to share him. But he chose me, Leo, not you. Me. He’s mine, and getting him outta this mess alive is my responsibility.”

            “Share him?” Leo gasped. “Raph, do you think I…want Donnie, like…a lover?”

            “Of course you do!” When the blood slowed to a mere trickle, I tossed the syringe, and picked a fresh one up to draw out the nerve growth solution from its bottle. “All that bullshit about who gets to spend time with who…That conversation you two had when you went out shopping, and the one at the farmhouse way back when…Don’t play dumb with me.”

            “You think…” I squirted the wound clean with saline, then propped the syringe between my fingers, and plunged it down until the clear jelly filled the whole space. “No! All I wanted Donnie for was to talk to him about my feelings for Michelangelo.” I dropped the syringe in shock, thankfully no longer needing it. “I couldn’t talk to him about it, obviously, and I couldn’t go to you, not when…well, no offense, but I didn’t think you’d be able to help me with anything emotional or romantic. Don’s the one I thought I could trust with my thoughts, and I was worried he wouldn’t be able to help me if he was spending so much time with you. I had no idea you two were…like that. I honestly thought I was the only one dealing with wanting one of my brothers.”

            “That’s why I went to Splinter yesterday.” Mike added. “I thought I was the only one, having all these weird feelings about Leo for so long.” I threaded the needle through Don’s flesh expertly, counting eleven perfect stitches before tying it off.

            “Wait…” Leo turned to Mike.

            “Woah, woah, woah! Can we please not do this here, not now?” I cried, picking up the syringe of epinephrine. “Leo, if you wanna be helpful, how ‘bout you get this blood off my face before it starts to go in my mouth?”

            “Seven of seven wounds successfully closed.” The Professor butted in as Leo dabbed my cheeks dry. “The tilapia grafts are setting as expected. It is now safe to cease the transfusion and deliver the epinephrine.”

            “Now we see about that concussion, right?” I pulled the tube from my arm, then his, and lined my syringe up just above where the transfusion needle had been. “Oh, and Leo…I think the stuff Don told you in the car the other day…he might have said it because he thought you were coming onto him too. Knowing what you know now about, you think he really has an issue with you shacking up with Mike?” I drew in one last deep breath. “Fingers crossed, the genius is still a genius after all this. If I fucked anything up, it’ll take him twice as much work to fix it.”

            I pushed the plunger down, removed the syringe, and stepped back, keeping a finger on Don’s neck.

            “His pulse is stabilizing within normal ranges.” Honeycutt noted. “His blood alcohol content is now 0.227. Probability of survival is now 99.7%”

            “Attaboy, Donnie.” I cupped his cheek tenderly. “Like I said, gotta build up a tolerance for when guests start to swing by. Hey Professor…How do we get home?”

            “I can activate the on-board computer in the vehicle named, ‘Raphie Racer’, and have it in the underground parking garage in an estimated twenty-six minutes.”

            “Raphie Racer? What the fuck is that?”

            “A 1996 BMW Alpina B12 5.7, forest green, ostensibly a four-seater, but with enough room in the rear bench for Master Splinter to sit comfortably.”

            “That’s…” It suddenly didn’t feel like Leo had properly wiped under my eyes. “Aw, Don!”

            “I trust you have arranged your own transportation, Karai.” Splinter gave her a bow. “Thank you for staying with us through this, and my dearest apologies about your helicopter.”

            “I should be thanking you, Splinter-san.” She bowed back. “You’ve vanquished the demon who sought our demise. I am in your debt.”

            “All I ask is that these personal details of my sons’ lives remain private. Do that, and there is no debt.”

            “ _Hai, kenjin._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AaAaAaAaHhHhHh!
> 
> Yo I've written so much over the past four days that I almost wish I could stretch this out longer, it's been an absolute blasty blast making this pairing work, and wrapping up all these lil plot details. My fingers basically got blisters now; I wish I could have ever written a single college term paper at this pace lmaooo
> 
> Don't abandon me yet, we still got one more chappy chap to go! 
> 
> Also P.S. I know nothing about medicine beyond watching Scrubs and reading Wikipedia. If a fire tengu blows up a helicopter on your roof, please don't take my advice on how to fix yourself up.


	12. Chapter 12

            “ _I’m tellin’ everyone you’re mine, and I like it,_

_And I really hope you don’t mind, I can’t fight it._

_No, you know I cannot hide it, ‘cause I am so excited,_

_That I finally decided on you._ ”

            “My son, you need to rest. Today has been most stressful for all of us, but perhaps most of all for you.”

            “I dunno, Sensei, something tells me Donnie had it worse. And you know if it were me on the cot, he’d be right here next to me until I wake up.”

            “I know, Raphael. Here.” I heard a splash, and the scent of strong coffee tickled my sinuses. “Has he stirred yet?”

            “Yeah, mumbled and moved around a few times. Hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but…he’s alive, ain’t he?”

            “Thanks to you. May I join you?”

            “Of course, Father.”

            “ _Baby while we’re young, we should just have fun,_

_We should just do whatever we want, and tell everyone,_

_That we fell in love with each other,_

_Ooh, that we found the one in one another._ ”

            “When you are exercising, your music is normally so loud and angry, like that Dancing Gavin character. Why do you now listen to this beautiful woman?”

            “Jeez, I mean…I guess Donnie tempered me out. I know he likes this stuff, and I like it too now. I’m hoping he wakes up hearing something nice.”

            “Indeed.” A long pause. “Raphael, your actions have taught me much about the contents of your heart today, and those of your brothers’ hearts.”

            “Yeah…Hey, Master Splinter, I _am_ sorry about running around behind your back, and all. It’s just…we’d both wanted…”

            “I understand, my son. At first, I had believed the emotions stirring between you all were solely of a carnal nature. But it is far more meaningful than that; you have shown me that these bonds not only pull you closer together as family, but improve each of your weaknesses and bolster your strengths. It is, as you had put it…love.”

            “So that means…”

            “You have my blessing, my son.”

            “Thank you.” The sound of fabric rubbing on scales…an embrace? And a tearful sniff.

            “ _I’ll go everywhere you go, you know I’ll go, I’ll go,_

_Everywhere you go, you know I’ll go, I’ll go…_ ”

 

* * *

 

 

            When I finally came to, other than a splitting headache, the first thing I noticed was a warm weight on my abdomen. My eyes adjusted to the light, and lying on my plastron was none other than Raph’s sleeping head, a puddle of drool forming in the crevice between scutes. I rubbed a hand against his cheek, and he snapped back to the world of the living with alarm.

            “Hey.” I croaked. He grabbed a rag from the end table and dabbed at the puddle he’d made.

            “Look who’s alive.” He leaned in and kissed me on the forehead. “Drank more than Casey after the Islanders shut the Rangers out…what’s the last thing you remember?”

            “Going to the loft and drinking until I couldn’t hold the bottle anymore. How long ago was that?”

            “Uh…three days.”

            “Sheesh. You really are a bad influence, Raph.” I teased.

            “Careful insulting the guy who fixed you up after a chopper exploded twenty feet away from your drunk ass.” He countered. “Hey, do me a favor, if you can: move the toes on your left foot.”

            Confused, I tried, and I could see why he asked. They barely twitched in response to my command.

            “You said a chopper…”

            “Don’t worry about it right now. What matters is, that glycerol goop we were cooking for Ape…if you can move ‘em at all, I think it worked. And more importantly, you’re gonna be in mint condition soon enough.”

            “Thanks…Doctor Fiero.” Hesitantly, I lifted my head off the pillow, and leaned in to plant my lips on his.

            “Oh shit, he’s up!” Mike’s voice echoed from the corner of the room. “Does that mean I can use the TV again?”

            “Right, ‘cause when your brother almost dies, and comes back to life, the first thing you should be worried about is whether you can catch up on your goddamn Crystal Gem nonsense.” Raph barked back. “Fuckin’ moron.”

            “Chill out, Raph-phire! I’m just as glad to see D up as you are.” He launched himself down the stairs, and in a flash, he was leaning over the back of the couch, peering down at me and waving a hand across my field of vision. “How many fingers am I holding up, dude?”

            “The square root of nine.” I laughed.

            “Bro, I think you broke him.” He looked up to Raph. “Gotta slice him open again and try for round two.”

            “How ‘bout I slice you open and put a calculator in your brain instead, twerp?”

            “Donnie’s awake?” Leo’s voice came from the kitchen.

            “I certainly don’t feel it.” I joked, as Leo came into view beside Mike.

            “Good to have you back, bro.” He set a hand gently on my shoulder, before putting it on the back of the couch, right on top of…Mikey’s hand?

            “Believe me, it’s good to be back, too. Is everything...I don’t know, back to normal?”

            “I wouldn’t call it normal.” Leo shared a knowing look with Mike. “But when has anything been normal with us? We’re mutant ninja turtles.”

            “I think, what he means is, we don’t gotta run away.” Raph clarified, wrapping my hand in his own.

            “Hallelujah. I don’t have the energy to be running anywhere right now.” I stretched my free hand up and let a long yawn out. “Mike, you can watch your Lesbian Rock Knights or whatever, if you want. If I could sleep through an exploding helicopter, I’m sure I can sleep through a TV show.”

 

* * *

 

 

            “They still working?” Raph hollered over the roar of the crashing waves.

            “I’m still standing, aren’t I?” I kicked one leg out of the water, revealing the dark metal exoskeleton bracing my lower limbs. April and Chaplin had worked for weeks to construct something that could build strength in my one leg, brace the healing tendon of the other, and keep me moving, all while remaining waterproof and suitable for all activities and terrains. While they weren’t always the most comfortable attire, I’d say they brought me back to 90% as mobile and agile as ever, which was more than I could ask for in such a timeframe. After my first official return to morning training sessions in over a month, Master Splinter agreed we were overdue for another venture to the surface, this time to Rockaway Beach. I bent down to pick the Frisbee off the pebbled seafloor and tossed it back toward Leonardo, who built up momentum and jumped over Master Splinter’s umbrella to catch it and tucked into a somersault before throwing it to Michelangelo.

            “My son, you would be wise not to get any more sand on my book.” He peered down from over his sunglasses, taking a long sip of iced tea.

            “Sorry Sensei!” Leo laughed nervously.

            When the four of us were finally tired out, we collapsed onto our towels, simply soaking in the sun and listening to the waves lap against the shore. Raphael painstakingly patted down my limb enhancers, even as I insisted they’d be fine.

            “Ain’t carrying you _and_ these hunks of junk back to the car if they stop working. ‘Sides, told you it’s your turn to drive home.”

            “And I told _you_ the car is yours!” I gave him a quick peck as he finally set the towel down and curled up alongside me.

            “I can drive!” Mike leaned up and proudly declared. “You know how many hours I’ve logged on Gran Turismo? I’m like, 99% flawless, bros.”

            “No!” All four of our voices chanted in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ultimate bop: "While We're Young" by Jhene Aiko, quite possibly the most corn syrupy-sweet love song I can think of, with a beat that positively fuckin slaps
> 
> 28k words in 5 days?!? Who needs sleep anyways lmao
> 
> Might pick around through older chapters and tweak some stuff around to improve tone and continuity, but y'all with the cheesy "roll credits" exit line above, I can declare this story officially DONE-ZO
> 
> Much love to all those who comment and kudos <3 Keep your eyes peeled for my next work!


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